


until you believe it

by lizee



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom Zayn, Daddy Kink, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Innocent Liam, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pining, Top Liam, Tutoring, a Lot of OT5, anyway let's get to it shall we, ish?, liam does it a lot, like a LOT of fluff idk it was cute there's a lot of cutesy ziam moments in here, minimal angst, well..Sixth Form
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:18:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizee/pseuds/lizee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Zayn’s not usually like this, Zayn never volunteers to do extra work, let alone work that requires him to think and commit, yet his stupid mouth doesn’t seem to get the hint. “I could tutor you,” he finds himself saying. “English was pretty much the only subject I got decent grades in, even won an award or two in writing. I reckon I could help y’ out if you were okay with that, of course.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. </p><p>or, where Zayn and Liam meet at a sixth form party and Zayn offers to tutor him.  He doesn't expect himself to fall in love with the kid while he's at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	until you believe it

**Author's Note:**

> title from Not A Bad Thing by Justin Timberlake.
> 
> This fic includes: kinky sex, very very light angst, aroace Niall, domestic Larry, and fluffy Ziam.
> 
> This started out as a little thing, really. I just liked the idea of older, mature Zayn with wide-eyed Liam Payne. And it was an excuse to write a lot of smut, but then it turned into this.
> 
> This is my first 'lengthy' fic on this website. 
> 
> Huge thanks to my betas: Jo, Libby, and Mila! I couldn't have done this fic without your lovely, lovely criticisms and giving me the confidence to actually post this.
> 
> Another thanks to my absolute inspirations for writing in general AKA Jesse jmcats, Avery zipplekink, and Em iwanttowriteyouafic. (They'll never read this, oopsies, but just a quick thank you to them because they're the reason I started writing ziam in the first place!) Expect more fics in the future, I promise you they'll come.
> 
> Before I get all sappy and start droning on and on, I'll leave it off with a simple: Enjoy.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://liamstour.tumblr.com).

_When I look outside my window, I can get no piece of mind._

It isn’t Zayn’s typical party at all, seeing as it was a sixth form party full of teenagers desperate to grow up. The bass thrums throughout his entire body as he scours the area for what they really came here for—Louis’ sister. It’s hot inside the house, sweaty bodies dancing without a care, grinding on each other dirtily. _Horny students_ , Zayn thinks. But he was the same way, so can he really judge?

Louis had been absolutely furious when he found out that Lottie had snuck out under his watch to attend some trashy party.

“Who did Lottie want to see so bad that she’d skip quality brother-sister time with her favorite brother?” Zayn bit his tongue to refrain from adding the bitter “and only brother” that sat on the tip of his tongue.

“We’ll split up,” Louis had said, eyeing all the students. His nose wrinkled as he caught a whiff of the obvious stench of cheap booze. “We might find her quicker that way.” And with that, he was off into the masses, disappearing in the haze.

Though it wasn’t exactly pleasing to be there, it wasn’t all too horrible. He and Louis weren’t that much older than the people here, Zayn having just finished sixth form last year and taking a gap year. Now that it’s summer, he knows he has to find a school quick in order to appease his parents. Or not. That’s a problem for the future.

Louis, on the other hand, is attending some university a bit outways from Doncaster on a football scholarship. He had just finished his first year and came back home to spend some time with his family and his best mates, Zayn and Niall.

Niall was also searching the area for Lottie, or, maybe he wasn’t. He seemingly disappeared amongst the crowd. Zayn rolls his eyes; Niall fit in with every group of people. Despite being two years younger than Zayn and Louis, he was able to infiltrate their friend group and dig a permanent place for himself. Now it just doesn’t seem right without the blonde nuisance there.

The faces all seem to blend into each other, and Zayn swears he sees some 10th years drinking beer, which is most definitely not okay. He looks around and spots some kid standing in the corner. His back is against the wall and he’s muttering to his friend. They look relatively sober, and Zayn is immediately put at ease around them.

The closer he gets, the more Zayn can make out their features. The boy’s got these warm brown eyes that he can just barely make out in the dark atmosphere of the room, curly hair that’s swept upwards into a quiff with buzzed sides, and these bushy eyebrows. There’s the slightest hint of stubble on his rounded cheeks and chin, like he’s trying to grow out of his boyhood. He sort of reminds Zayn of a puppy. The boy standing next to him has curly hair as well, but it’s swept to the side. Instead of the brown eyes of the other, this one has these intriguing and piercing green eyes. He looks Zayn up and down like he’s sizing him up, a cheeky smirk on his face.

“Can we help you?” The green eyed boy asks in deep voice.

“Yeah, er, do you lads happen to know where I can find a Lottie Tomlinson?” Zayn asks, leaning a bit closer to the puppy-looking boy rather than the one who was checking Zayn out.

“Lottie?” the puppy asks, and Zayn prefers his voice over the other. There’s something about his voice, maybe it’s the way it seems so smooth and inviting, simultaneously soft and gentle. Zayn feels relaxed by his voice, like he could listen to it for hours and never get bored.

“Louis Tomlinson’s sister?” the green eyed one asks, and oh yeah, Zayn forgets that Louis’s a bit of a footie celebrity around these parts.

“Yeah, her,” Zayn says, looking anxiously around them for someone familiar. Being surrounded by a bunch of strangers doesn’t exactly bring back the best memories. He remembers the bustle of the hallway, the anxious feeling he couldn’t shake off from all the chaos in the narrow corridors. It was the terror of not knowing anyone, well, that was until he met Louis.

“I’ll go get her, she’s probably making out with her boyfriend out back.” And just like that, the green-eyed boy disappears. Zayn quirks an eyebrow.

“Boyfriend?”

The puppy laughs, “Yeah, Lottie’s got a boyfriend and she’s been hiding him from Louis, something about being overprotective or whatnot.”

Zayn just nods, knowing how Louis is. It’s ironic coming from Louis, who’s been in more relationships than Zayn can count.

“I never caught your name? I’m Liam, by the way.” The boy, _Liam_ , extends his hand. Zayn takes it and for some reason fixates on the firm grasp of his hand on his. It’s nice, strong. Different. Rough.

Then Zayn realizes Liam asked him a question. “ _Leeyum_ ,” he repeats, feeling the name on his tongue. “‘m Zayn. I’m one of Lou’s best mates. I take it that these parties aren’t exactly your… thing?”

He grins and scratches the back of his head nervously, plays with the hem of his flannel. “Err..yeah. It’s Harry’s party, erm.” He jerks his head in the direction of the other boy. “Harry’s the boy who checked you out. Sorry about him. He does that, sometimes, but I swear, he’s not always this forward. He’s actually crushing on someone else.” Then Liam claps a hand over his mouth. “Shoot, I wasn’t supposed to say that. Just pretend you didn’t hear that.”

Zayn laughs, intrigued by this ray of innocence that seems to emanate from Liam. He just seems so pure, untainted—something rare for a boy that Zayn reckons is seventeen or eighteen. Zayn’s about to reply when he’s cut off with a, “Let go of me, Harry!” and an, “Oh _shit_.”

Zayn gives Lottie a little wave. Her eyes are widened almost comically and Zayn can see the visible fear in them. Louis isn’t exactly the nicest when he’s mad. She asks with a tremble in her voice, “I-is he—”

“Yep.”

“And is he—”

“Yep.” She drops her head in shame, an attempt to hide her face from what’s coming next.

“ _Lottie Tomlinson!_ ” they hear from behind them. She whips around and sees the face of the one and only Louis Tomlinson, whose usually cool blue eyes are replaced with cold, unrelenting steels that are seemingly aflame with anger.

“H..hey Lou,” she says quietly, avoiding eye contact with her brother.

“We’re having a talk in the car. Alone.” He turns to Zayn, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “I’m sorry, Zee, but can you catch a ride with Nialler or something?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, unsure if Louis even heard him because he’s too busy shooting daggers at his sister.

“So, that was Louis Tomlinson?” Harry asks after a moment of silence. There’s a hint of awe in his voice, but Zayn doesn’t really get the hype around it. Maybe it’s because he’s known Louis since he wore those far too tight skinny jeans and had that shit bowl haircut he thought was stylish.

“Yeah that was—”

“Oi, Zayn! Did Tommo leave already?” the familiar voice cuts through the air. Zayn spots the Irish fucker, his obvious dye job protruding amongst the sea of horny teenagers.

“Yeah, Niall, is it alright if I ride home with you or summat? You can just drop me off on the curb.”

“If you’re alright sharing some space with these two feckers. You two acquainted already? Liam, Harry, this is my college mate, Zayn,” he says cheerily, shoving the three of them closer together. Zayn tries to hide the slight cringe at the word ‘college mate’ since he isn’t necessarily one. Yet. But that’s a problem for future him.

Zayn throws a glance Niall’s way. “You’ve never told me you had school friends, Niall.”

“Of course, I have some! I don’t just have you and Tommo,” he barks out with a laugh.

The great thing about Niall is that he doesn’t take offense to the comment, doesn’t take offense to anything at all, actually. The boy seems to radiate sunshine, but it’s a different kind of aura compared to the one Liam has. Liam’s is something else, untainted and pure. He’s pretty sure Liam could come close to replacing Niall’s status as the Sun.

“Actually, we aren’t Niall’s friends. We just put up with his shit,” Harry jokes, wincing when Niall throws a punch at his arm.

“Niall, are you sober?” Liam asks, obviously distraught at Niall’s far too red face and mussed up hair. There’s an obvious stench of alcohol surrounding the lad.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “No, he’s not.” He grabs the keys from Niall’s back pocket.

“Oi, Zayner! You don’t have to feel me up, you coulda just asked,” Niall slurs.

“Shut it. Can any of you drive?” he asks, looking between Harry and Liam.

“I can,” Liam says, raising his hand, and honestly who is this kid? He acts as if he’s in a classroom, far too proper and good. He tosses the keys to Liam.

“Why?” Harry asks cheekily. “Can’t drive?”

Zayn’s jaw tightens. “No, no I can’t. Now, can we just get home?”

The car is a tight fit, with a drunken Niall sprawled all across the back seats and resting his head in Harry’s lap. Zayn’s sitting shotgun next to Liam.

“Um, I haven’t driven much. I recently got my license and so it might not be the smoothest of journeys and I just—”

“Just drive, mate,” Zayn interrupts, “We’ll be fine.” Liam gulps and nods his head and puts the key in the ignition.

The drive back isn’t bad, serenaded by the snores of Niall and Harry. “So, you’re in university then?” Liam asks, an attempt to create some small talk. Zayn appreciates the effort, cutting the near-awkward silence that had blanketed the car. Plus, he can tell how nervous Liam is, his hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He’d find it endearing if it weren’t the fact that he’s literally putting his safety in some kid’s hands.

Zayn rubs his chin, liking the rough feel of his stubble against his calloused fingers. A nervous habit. He doesn’t get why he’s so nervous, though. Liam’s just some random kid, granted, a fit one. A goody two-shoes. Alright, so maybe Zayn’s a bit smitten.

“Actually, I took a gap year of sorts last year. I would’ve been same year as Lou. I’m choosing a school this summer.”

Liam nods earnestly, as if he’s hanging on Zayn’s every word. Maybe he is. He doesn’t respond, encouraging Zayn to go on.

“I think I’m looking at some art schools or summat, I was really big into art and literature when I was your age.” Zayn winces at the last sentence that makes him seem older than he actually is.

Liam replies with a little giggle, something way cuter than it should be. “You’re not that much older than us, you know. I’m seventeen.”

“Twenty,” Zayn replies, grinning. “Three years makes a difference.”

And the conversation goes on like that, playful banter between the two of them, curious questions from Liam about Zayn’s life, and vice versa. He learns that Liam is actually ranked third in his class, rotating between football and American football and track throughout his school year in terms of sports, and participates in various extracurriculars such as choir, volunteering, and the like. Zayn is in total awe of Liam because it seems he can do just about anything.

“Except English. I’m god awful at English. Me mum’s trying to get me a tutor, but—”

And Zayn’s not usually like this, Zayn never volunteers to do extra work, let alone work that requires him to think and commit, yet his stupid mouth doesn’t seem to get the hint. “I could tutor you,” he finds himself saying. “English was pretty much the only subject I got decent grades in, even won an award or two in writing. I reckon I could help y’ out if you were okay with that, of course.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Liam tries to think of a reply but his mouth just opens and closes repeatedly, lost for words. “A-are you sure? What would the pay be? I don’t have too much spare money for a tutor and I wouldn’t want to waste your time and—”

“ _Leeyum,_ ” Zayn interrupts with a smile, knowing that Liam is just as nervous as he is from the shake in his voice. “Trust me, it’s okay. I’d love to tutor you for free, it’d be fine. You can just pay me back in gossip about Lottie’s boyfriend or the whereabouts of Niall, maybe those desserts your mum makes that you were talking about earlier.” Zayn’s mind is yelling at him, telling him to shut up, but his mouth keeps running. “If you want, you know, I don’t...yeah.” Great job. Yeah, Zayn, you really nailed it.

Liam grins sheepishly. “Seems fair to me, if you’re really up for it. I’m warning you, though, I’m absolute garbage at English.”

“Here, just give me your phone and I’ll put in my number and you can text me when you want to start, yeah?” Once again, Zayn has no idea why he’s doing this, but he finds himself wanting to know this boy more, and maybe tutoring is the way to do it.

They spend the next five minutes discussing details—how long the tutoring will go on for, what areas it needs to be in, and Zayn constantly assuring Liam that it’s okay.

“Really, Zayn, are you sure?” Liam asks worriedly, his brows creased with uncertainty.

“Really, Liam.” He looks around and sees the familiar house up ahead. “Just drop me off at the curb right here, if that’s alright,” Zayn says reluctantly. He doesn’t want to leave Liam, but he knows it’s late and he’s got things to do.

“Thank you again, Zayn. It means a lot to me.” And fuck, this boy is so genuine that Zayn can’t help but grin at the boy.

“‘Course, Li.” And the car drives off. Later that night, Zayn buries his face in his hands.

“What the actual fuck?” he murmurs to himself.

. . .

“So you wanna shag him?” Louis asks with a mouthful of crisps. Zayn needed someone to confide in and because Zayn has shit choice in friends, he was stuck telling Louis Tomlinson about his stupid decision to tutor some fit boy he met at a party.

Zayn splutters, “Of course not, Louis, I’m just doing it—”

“Out of the goodness of your heart? Yeah right, mate, because Zayn Malik is so well-known for his good nature. C’mon now, y’ can admit he’s a little fit. Though I’m more interested in the curly one. He knew me?” Louis questions, wiggling his eyebrows a bit, his blue eyes playful and dancing with color.

Zayn rolls his eyes and snorts. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lou. You already know you’re a bit of a celebrity here.”

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

_heyyy its liam!!! :)_

_is it 2 soon 2 txt you_

_o wait is this even zayn_

_m sorry i mite hv the wrong # lolllzz_

pls jus ignore this

Zayn smiles fondly at his phone, can imagine Liam’s face, probably doing that stupid (and, alright, slightly adorable) frown he does when he’s worried or nervous. And fuck, Zayn’s in deep.

_you’re fine, babe. it’s z._

When Zayn looks up, Louis is watching him with a knowing smirk. “Shut up, alright,” Zayn grumbles.

“I’ll tell you early since you know Daddy Louis knows everything about his best mate Zaynie—I told you so,” Louis replies matter-of-factly.

“Can you maybe not call yourself that?” Zayn asks, frowning.

Louis bites the inside of his cheek and grins. “You like it. I know about your kinky arse, Malik, don’t try and hide it. And I told you so. I told you so. I told you so. I’m calling it early.”

Zayn doesn’t argue with him.

. . .

They agree to meet at the park for their first session, a group gathering of sorts to take away some of the potential awkwardness. Louis walks with Zayn to the meetup spot.

“I think I see them,” Louis comments, nodding in a direction, and yeah, that’s them. Zayn can immediately spot Niall’s bad dye job, a shock of electric yellow on top of a peak of brunette.

“Is that the curly fucker?” Louis says, and god, Zayn knows that look. Louis’ a fucking dog, his eyes traveling up and down Harry.

“Behave, Lou, keep it in your pants,” Zayn mutters, pinching Louis’ side. He lets out a yelp, but quickly regains his composure as he swaggers his way to them, a football held at his side.

“Hello, lads! Zayner brought me along ‘cause I was told you lot were coming with, uh, Larry is it?”

“Liam,” Zayn corrects him, rolling his eyes because he knows this is all part of Louis’s little plan. He lures them in with playful banter, mock innocence, and then makes his moves.

“Right,” Louis says, uninterested, raising his eyebrows, “Liam.”

And that’s when Zayn’s attention falls on him, with his stupid quiff and puppy dog eyes and broad shoulders. Tight baseball tee. Ripped jeans. Fuck. He gives Louis and Zayn a little wave and a shy smile, eyes crinkling at the corners as usual. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s absolutely adorable and Zayn doesn’t do adorable. He’s...leather jackets and smoking and cannabis and, oh who’s he kidding at this point? Zayn’s an absolute sucker for sweet boys who are far too kind for their own good.

“He’s a bit more than a little fit,” Louis mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Zayn to hear. “God, if Curly over there wasn’t so good looking, I’d shag him m’self.”

“Li, you wanna separate a bit so we can have a quiet space for tutoring and then join the lads later?” Zayn suggests, narrowing his eyes at Louis. In the corner of his eye, he can see Louis wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Uh, sure! Yeah, sure,” Liam says, blushing a bit, and fuck, Zayn is just so endeared by him. He grins at him and leads the way to a tree he sees in the distance.

He takes a seat underneath it, enjoying the cool breeze and the shade the tree offers. “This is alright, yeah? You weren’t too busy, were you? I was so nervous the entire time I was texting you, I know you’re a busy person and just—”

“Liam, it’s fine,” Zayn assures him. “Now let’s start yeah? I reckon we should start off with some Shakespeare, yeah?” Liam nods, looks a bit intimidated by the stack of books in Zayn’s bookbag. “Don’t be like that now, it’ll be fun. Just you and me.”

“Yeah, just you and me,” Liam repeats, relaxing his shoulders a bit.

The session goes well, ending an hour later. Liam learns quickly, and he’s so eager to please. He gets this look on his face with his furrowed eyebrows and mouth downwards when he’s concentrating. Zayn kind of loves it. When he gets something right or realizes something in the text, his eyes light up and he does this thing where he smiles so big, his eyes crinkle at the corners. His laughter and happiness is absolutely infectious, almost as infectious as Niall’s.

“You want homework or summat?” Zayn asks. “I’m new to this whole tutoring thing, so I don’t know…”

“If you want, then sure, though I do prefer just going through it with you.” Liam’s eyes widen as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth and he looks down, his face flushing with embarrassment.

“That’s alright, mate, I like it, too,” Zayn admits, smiling softly at Liam, who bites his lip and nods. Zayn has to remind himself that this is strictly for tutoring, for Liam’s benefit, and not for his selfish needs. No matter how much he wants to ask Liam out and hear his laugh every day on the phone and learn more about him. Oh, fuck.

“Oi, you two lovebirds done yet?” Louis calls from across the park. He’s down at the pitch with Niall and Harry, playing a game of footie. Or attempting to, since he’s a bit distracted by Harry who proves to be absolute shit at the sport. Niall doesn’t seem to mind third wheeling at all.

“Shut up, Lou!” Zayn calls. He turns to Liam. “I guess we should…”

“Yeah.” They get up and make their way towards the pitch. Zayn’s never been a fan of football. He knows how it works, but sports were just never his thing. He takes a seat on the sidelines with Harry and just watches. Sports may not be his thing, but he can tell Liam is more than adept at it, watching him weave through the defenders with ease. He looks much more comfortable here than he was when they were talking about the symbolism in _Romeo and Juliet_.

“He’s a good kid,” Harry murmurs out of nowhere. Zayn just nods, tight-lipped. He doesn’t know what to think of Harry yet. They didn’t exactly hit it off at the first meeting.

“I’m not that bad, you know,” Harry says, turning his head to Zayn, flicking the curls out of his face and grinning a charming smile. “I know we didn’t exactly...click at first. It’s all just an act, really. I’m not a hotshot or some bad boy, Liam wouldn’t be able to stand me if I was.” Zayn smiles a bit at that. “We’re alright?”

“We’re alright,” Zayn says quietly, giving a small smile to Harry.

“Right, now that’s established, my mate has a bit of a crush on you,” Harry admits coolly, his eyes following Liam’s figure on the field. He’s kicking around the ball with Louis, muscles flexing underneath that tight tee.

Zayn’s eyes widen and his mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but he’s cut off again by Harry. “Now, of course, you don’t have to do anything about it. But I know you think he’s fit. He’s just a bit shy, he would never make a move first. I don’t know about you, though.”

“He’s a bit...young, isn’t he?” Zayn asks. “Not that...not that I was planning to or anything, it’s strictly—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re what, twenty?” Zayn nods. “Three years. Liam’s turning eighteen in August.”

“I’m not looking to do a relationship, and even more so, a relationship with a kid who’s still in school.”

Harry shrugs. “He’s almost done, starts his last year in August as well.”

“So, are you just trying to set him up with me, or?”

“Nah, he’d kill me if he knew I told you. I’m just trying to do him a favor since I know he’s too scared to actually do anything about it. He does this all the time. He doesn’t think he’s good enough to get someone on his own, so he just lets them go,” Harry replies, frowning a bit. Zayn feels a pang of sadness in his gut, almost like a punch. He knew Liam was quiet, shy, but not self-conscious. There was nothing for him to be self-conscious about. He’s amazing, and Zayn couldn’t register how someone could think otherwise.

“Anyway, you don’t have to do anything about it. But if you do, just remember that that’s my best mate you’re gonna be fucking around with.” Zayn opens his mouth to argue, but Harry gives him a pointed look. “It’s going to happen, I know it is. Just don’t break him, yeah? He’s delicate. He’d kill me if he heard me say that, but it’s true. He looks like a fucking brick wall on the outside, but he’s sensitive. He’s still...new to all this. He’s the baby of our group and we look after him, Nialler and I.”

“I get it, I do,” Zayn replies, remembering how it felt when Louis first took him under his wing, teaching him the ins and outs of the city when he first moved to Doncaster. “You know, Louis said the same thing about erm, me and...and Liam.” He feels stupid, the words coming out of his mouth. It’s like he’s almost implying there _is_ a Zayn and Liam when there isn’t. Not one bit.

“He did?” Harry asks, his serious tone falling away and now he looks more like Zayn just told him his favorite celebrity noticed him on Twitter.

“I’ll put in a good word for you, mate,” Zayn promises with a smile he hopes looks genuine because it is. He likes Harry, really. Harry just blurts out his thanks and rambles on about Louis and how amazing he is. Zayn can’t help but listen because Harry’s so enamored with his best mate, it’s kind of ridiculous. He just nods along, watching the match on the field in front of them as Harry speaks in that nearly comical deep voice of his.

Harry gives him a clap on the back and excuses himself to the field to join the lads, gravitating towards Louis. And Zayn? His eyes are trained on Liam’s figure, and he just can’t stop thinking about how _fucked_ he is.

. . .

It’s interesting, really, to watch Liam study. Zayn’s always liked observing, eyeing the way people each had their different idiosyncrasies. For instance, Liam, he could tell, was a very strong willed individual. He had his quirks, the way he always ran his hands through his hair or shook his head whenever he’d get frustrated with himself. That’s another thing—Liam would always get frustrated at himself. He never even thought about criticizing the way Zayn taught him, or maybe the fact that the homework was too hard. No, he’d always put it on himself, pushing himself to try harder, to do better, to learn more, how this boy’s lip somehow managed to get an even darker shade of red from biting it out of his fixation on his homework.

Liam lets out a sigh, putting down his pencil (lightly and delicately, mind you, as if he didn’t want to put out his anger on his pencil.) “You alright there, mate?” Zayn asks, eyes trained on the furrow of Liam’s brow and the frown painted on his face. He’s not very fond of Liam’s frown, preferring his sunshiney grin and crinkled eyes that he’s grown so accustomed to from these past sessions.

“Fine,” he mutters, caging his lip between his teeth again as he picks up the pencil again with a more determined grip and scanning over the pages again.

“It’s not gonna change, Li,” Zayn attempts to joke, but that only earns him a sad look from Liam. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just...you need help?”

“No, I think I’m…”

“Asking for help isn’t a bad thing, Liam,” Zayn reminds him, scooting a bit closer to look at the bit Liam’s stuck on. It’s some analysis question that Zayn gave him as a way to challenge him; the question is meant to stump him since it asks for the deeper meaning of the text, the far less obvious one.

He explains the question to him, trying so hard to ignore the way Liam looks at him. It makes his heart beat a little faster, the way his dark browns are so focused on Zayn’s words, the affirmative nods he gives every so often to assure Zayn he’s listening intently and picking up the information. Liam chuckles a bit, shaking his head.

“You make it seem so easy and I feel a bit daft, I dunno,” he admits. Liam tucks himself closer to Zayn’s side, back resting against the hard bark of the tree. He’s so close to Zayn, his body heat comforting against him.

“Y’not daft, Leeyum. It just takes time, yeah? Now, c’mon, let’s work on the next question.” Zayn tries to ignore how his heart is still thumping hard in his chest, how much he likes having Liam curled so close to him, the proximity of their hands. It’s all pushed to the back of his head.

. . .

The sessions continue for two more months, twice a week. It’s always at the park, always with the rest of the lads coming. Zayn just pushes what Harry said to him to the back of his mind, not wanting to dwell on it for too long. It’s not that Zayn _doesn’t_ like Liam, because he knows he’s so obviously smitten with the charming boy with rounded cheeks and a smile that could light up the sky; it’s more of the fact that Zayn doesn’t want to ruin Liam. He’s impressionable and still young, and Zayn doesn’t want to taint any of that. So relationship wise, nothing occurs. Liam gets more comfortable around Zayn, cracking more jokes during their tutoring sessions, laughing without a care.

It’s nice to see Liam as he truly is, rather than some awkward, shy kid he met at a party. Zayn’s figured out that he’s a bit of a comic book nerd like himself, going on about how he saw the Avengers nearly eight times, whereas Zayn’s only seen it six.

( _“‘ve always wanted to be Captain America, y’know?” Liam had mentioned to him in the middle of the study session, a faint blush over his cheeks at the admission. He giggled to himself and looked down, shaking his head. “Some crazy, crazy idea that I’d turn out to be a superhero one day.”_

 _And Zayn had wanted to yell at this boy, tell him he is one in his own little way, but that’d be too much. Hell, he’s only known this kid for two months and already he was going to tell him he was a hero in his eyes. He’s so, so fucked._ )

Harry and Liam have found themselves stuck in this little group, going from a trio to a quintet. Louis’s fond enough of Liam, though he’s definitely still crushing on Harry. Zayn doesn’t even know what’s going on over there. He sometimes sees Harry resting on Louis’s shoulder, then switching to boyish banter and fighting. Zayn doesn’t spend too much time on it; it’s obviously far too complicated for him to understand, but it’s doing no harm. Niall mainly spends his time as a mediator, always watching after the boys like some higher power seeing this all go down, like he knows something they don’t. It’s somewhat unsettling, but Niall’s always been like this—omniscient.

_is it ok if the session 2day isnt in the park_

_H asked me if he n lou cud hv sm alone time n niall is out smwhere_

Zayn reads the texts and feels something flutter in his stomach. The sessions between him and Liam, sure, have been just them. But this was different. This would be without the boys chaperoning from a few feet away.

_Sure, he finds himself texting back. whered u have in mind?_

_rmr how u wanted mum’s baking. she sd u cud cum ovr for food_

_sry bad spelling , harry told me not 2 type that word_

Zayn giggles a bit at the texts because Liam’s just so fucking innocent. He does this often, his texts ranging from how he scored a goal against Louis Tomlinson or how his mum bought him a Captain America shirt and it didn’t fit. Liam just looked at life like it was the happiest thing in the world and it was absolutely contagious.

_Just text me the address and ill b there in a mo, babe_

And that’s how Zayn finds himself at the entrance to Liam’s home. He wills his feet to carry him to the front door and before he can do anything else, he finds his fist knocking on the wooden door. A blonde woman opens the door and Zayn can recognize some of Liam’s features in her face—the crinkled eyes, the same warm smile.

“Hello, lovely, you must be Zayn! My little Liam has told me so much about you and all the trouble you’re going through to help him in his classes, bless you.” She opens the door further and ushers Zayn inside. The house is inviting and chilled, a relief from the summer heat. Every detail of the house is so quaint. Its bright yellow sunflowers serve as a centerpiece for the dining table, paired with blue framed photographs hung on the walls. “He also told me how curious you were about my baking, and I’m flattered, darling. Oh, you’re such a cutie.”

Zayn blushes a bit because he knows how Liam always praises him. He’s talked a bit with Harry on the side, and he always mocks how Liam talks so highly of him, nonstop. Zayn can’t make fun of him for it when he knows he does the same when it comes to Liam. It’s surprising Louis hasn’t commented on it, though Zayn knows he’s sick of the constant chatter about this peculiar boy.

“Mum, don’t embarrass me!” Liam calls from upstairs.

“I’m not, dearie, I’m just talking to our guest!” she yells back. She rolls her eyes. “Honestly. I really do have to thank you, though.” She glances at the stairs before turning to Zayn again and lowers her voice. “Liam’s always had a tough time in school and he just tries so hard. The marks he gets are so good and he puts in so much work to prove to us that he can do it. He doesn’t like admitting he needs help, bless him, but he does. We’re lucky he found you and Niall and Harry. Before them, he rarely had anyone. Got bullied a bit from his previous school, so we moved here in the beginning of his tenth year.”

Zayn’s heart sinks as he hears Mrs. Payne tell him about Liam’s poor school experiences. Liam is such a sweet boy who is just so genuine, and Zayn finds it unbelievable that people could dislike him. Anyone who wouldn’t want to befriend him is an absolute idiot, Zayn thinks.

Liam makes his way downstairs, wearing a Captain America shirt and some jeans. “I’m sorry about my mum,” he whispers to him. Zayn can’t help but give a good sniff at Liam (It’s not weird, shut up) and he smells like mint and pine. The two shouldn’t go together but Liam somehow makes it work. “She’s a bit much.”

Zayn laughs and shakes his head. “No, she’s great, I like her a lot.” And Liam’s eyes seem to light up at Zayn’s comment, and Zayn thinks it’s his favorite sight in the world.

“Go ahead and try her cookies, they’re her specialty.” He takes a cautious bite into the dessert, trying his hardest not to groan because it’s fucking delicious. It nearly melts in his mouth and has this gooey caramel center with the top sprinkled with sea salt (and maybe Zayn thinks about how Liam would probably taste just like this—the perfect combination of sweet and salty.) Zayn maybe sneaks three or four of them in his bookbag, and Liam maybe notices but doesn’t mention it besides a smirk.

“Here, we can go to my room to study.” He follows Liam up the stairs, taking a look at all the family photos hung on the wall. “That’s my sister, Ruth, and that’s Nicola. Being the youngest isn’t the most fun thing in the world, especially when you’re the only boy.”

Zayn nods and agrees, “I know the feeling. I’ve got three sisters—Safaa, Waliyha, and Doniya.”

“I’d love to meet them one day if they’re anything like you. Family’s really important to me, y’know? I don’t know what I’d do without my mum.” He feels a tug at his heart with Liam’s words. He deserved the world. “Here’s my room. You can come in if y’like. Excuse the mess, God, that’s a bit embarrassing, innit?”

Liam’s room is just as Zayn expected. Every centimeter of the wall is covered with posters of superheroes and cutouts from comic books. He has a bookshelf dedicated to his collection and a stand in the corner of the room with all his awards for sports. There’s some photos of him throughout the years, a particularly embarrassing one from Halloween where he’s dressed as Woody from Toy Story.

“Ignore that,” he mutters, his face burning as he flips the photo over with Zayn snickering into his shoulder. They lay across his bed (the sheets are, of course, Iron Man themed) and start to study. Zayn finds himself stealing glances at the room as Liam works on deciphering some figurative language from a passage. He takes his time to admire the details of Liam’s room, how it just captures his personality. The room is a personification of Liam and Zayn absolutely loves it, the navy blue walls, the seemingly random objects that obviously hold some ounce of sentimental value to Liam that are scattered across his dresser. It screams Liam and Zayn can’t help but feel at ease in Liam’s room.

“I’m really scared,” Liam admits, “my first week of school starts soon and I just..I have to do well.”

“You’ll be great, mate. You’ve made a lot of progress, honest.” Before he can even control his hand, Zayn finds himself tickling under Liam’s chin, rubbing against the stubble that seems to be growing there. He wants to retract the motion, spill apologies from his mouth because that was completely uncalled for. Instead, Liam gives him a small smile.

“Let’s head down for dinner, yeah? I invited the boys, so maybe they’ll show up.” And there it is again, that ‘maybe’, the obvious insecurity that Zayn wants to erase if Liam would just let him.

Sure enough the boys show up, Harry giggling into Louis’ neck as he greets Mrs. Payne (who thankfully ignores the obvious flirting.) Niall shows up as well, his kit a little dirty from practice down at the pitch.

It feels safe, it feels normal. It’s this normalcy that Zayn’s been searching for ever since he moved here, where he’s finally got a group of people that understand him. Dinner runs smoothly, in between bouts of playful banter and inside jokes.

Before they realize it, night falls and it’s soon nine o’clock. Louis and Harry make their way out, exiting just as they came in, clinging to each other like they’re each other’s lifelines. Niall gets a call (“Sorry, I’m coming, I’m coming.”) and gives them a quick wave before heading home, leaving just Zayn and Liam.

They’re sitting in Liam’s basement, watching Marvel films. Liam’s cuddled close to Zayn, their legs draped over each other’s and sharing a bowl of popcorn. Zayn thinks Liam’s asleep, but he can hear the quietest whisper underneath the noise of the movie, “Thank you, Zayn. Really. You’re the best mate I’ve ever had.”

Zayn pretends not to hear.

. . .

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” Liam asks, worry lines on his face. He’s twiddling with his fingers as Zayn pushes the grocery cart.

He shakes his head fondly and snorts. “‘s not problem, mate. I just didn’t want to go alone cause I’m a prat. What d’ you want?” Liam’s eyes scan the shelves. He tentatively reaches for some off-brand chocolate bar and looks at Zayn with these pleading eyes. “Go on, put it in the cart.”

Liam grins and says, “Mum usually never lets me buy candies, says it’s bad f’ me and I get too hyper.”

He goes on to talk about his workout routine. “I used to be a sickly child, you know? Only recently did I try to...fix myself up.”

“Don’t say that,” Zayn says. “You weren’t broken in the first place.” And Liam’s smile somehow manages to get even brighter from Zayn’s words.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit chatty.”

“Don’t apologize for that either, Leeyum. You’re fine. I like it.” Zayn smirks over his shoulder as he watches Liam get flustered. “Now, c’mon, help me pick out an ice cream flavor. We’re gonna bingewatch Daredevil.”

. . .

They’re silently studying together, Zayn filling out his application for some fancy art school a little ways out. He’s having trouble focusing, watching the way Liam hums to himself and reads the words. It’s cute, the way he sways his head from side to side and makes the backing track with his mouth.

“Justin Timberlake?” Zayn guesses. Liam breaks out into a sunny smile, scratching the back of his neck like he does when he’s embarrassed.

“Yeah, I’m a big fan of his music and I’ve just had Carry Out stuck in my head for ages. You probably think I’m daft or something,” Liam admits with a giggle.

“Nah, I think Timberlake’s sick. Strawberry Bubblegum is sick.” He pulls out his phone and puts it on shuffle, the familiar opening chords of Suit & Tie filling the room. Liam starts to sing along, a silky croon of _let me show you a few things_.

Zayn’s voice joins him, entering with a high falsetto. They’re both nodding their heads to the beats, singing. Zayn loves Liam’s voice, the smoothness of it and his effortless falsetto. Out of nowhere, he harmonizes with Liam’s voice and the way their voices mix is pure magic.

“Aww, go on and show ‘em who you call daddy,” Liam’s voice makes over the track and Zayn tries to look unaffected by it, but the word rolling off of Liam’s tongue makes him shiver. He promised himself not to think of Liam that way, but he looks like absolute sin. His eyes are shut and mouth drawn open as he sings. His lips are wet and a gorgeous shade of red and Zayn wants to ruin him completely.

He brushes it off though, cursing himself for letting his mind drift off like that. The night goes smoothly besides that, laughing as they sing along to their favorite tunes.

“You’ve got a really nice voice,” Zayn comments during an interlude.

“I was actually on X Factor when I was fourteen, wanted to be a singer. Such a stupid idea, I know.” Zayn frowns.

“Don’t do that, mate. Y’not stupid at all. I think it’s pretty sick you got the chance to do that. You’d be a great singer, you know?” Zayn nudges Liam with his shoulder and smirks at him. “The girls would be all over you.”

Liam shrugs and blushes so prettily, it’s really not helping Zayn’s situation. “Thanks, Z. I think I’d prefer just this, though.” And the confession is so genuine that Zayn wants to just lean forward and kiss him right there, maybe suck him down til he’s letting out high pitched whines now that Zayn knows he can go that high.

Zayn clears his throat, praying that his dirty thoughts go away. “C’mon, let’s get on with studying, yeah?”

. . .

Zayn doesn’t hear from Liam until two weeks into his classes. He’s been getting updates from Niall, but besides that, there’s no cheeky text, no cute voicemails, nothing. And Zayn doesn’t know when Liam became such a big part of his daily routine, but he feels as if he’s missing something now that Liam’s not around.

“You really have fallen for him, Zee,” Louis says plainly as he watches Zayn’s fingers drum anxiously against his leg. He can’t _help_ it, okay, he’s nervous. He’s scared about Liam, especially from what he heard from his mum about being bullied and not fitting in, and fuck. He’s scared.

“Zee, Zayner,” Louis repeats, trying to catch his attention, but his eyes are fixated on that one spot on the ground, head swimming with worrisome thoughts about Liam because he fucking cares, alright? He’s grown attached to this kid and feels this...this need to protect him. And there’s a gnawing thought at the back of Zayn’s brain that’s screaming that those thoughts aren’t normal for a tutor to think.

“ _Zayn._ ” He looks up when he feels Louis’s hand on his shoulder, his eyes meeting Louis’ concerned blues. “Nialler says he’s okay. You don’t need to worry about the pup. Besides, you’ve got problems of your own, yeah?”

That’s another thing. Zayn’s started classes at the art school (he has no idea how he got in. Luck, maybe.) and that’s consumed most of his time. He’s been meaning to shoot Liam a text, but it seems as if his teachers want to make sure he’s never in contact with another human being ever again by drowning him in assignments and projects.

“Yeah,” he replies distantly, swallowing again and going back to tapping his fingers. He feels the buzz in his pocket from the text alert and he fumbles at his jeans, hands shaking slightly.

_can i come ovr 2 ur place_

_ pls _

Zayn feels his heart skip a beat after he reads the texts over and over again. They’ve only done it a couple of times, Zayn bringing Liam over to his flat. The truth is that he’s ashamed of it—it’s dingy and small and Zayn was content with it at first, but having to show it to someone else? A whole other story. Frankly, he’s embarrassed by it. Zayn’s not the neatest person in the world.

 _of course babe is everything okay?_ he replies. Liam’s not necessarily a very proud person, but he doesn’t actively seek pity either. He’s strong, one of the strongest people Zayn’s ever known, watching him struggle with his coursework but somehow still keep trying at it. He gets too frustrated with himself and sometimes Zayn just wants to wrap him up in his arms and promise him everything will be okay.

_need u_

That’s another thing they do. These kinds of texts, ones that are so short but say so much. It’s as if they can tell just what the other needs or wants, like the time Liam brought Zayn Nando’s when Zayn had texted him a sad face after he’d skinned his knee. Or the time Liam texted him a quick ‘help me’ and Zayn came rushing to save Liam from third wheeling when he was hanging around Louis and Harry.

_ill pick u up from school give me a sec_

“Your boy’s calling for his hero?” Louis asks, knowing Zayn so well. Zayn bites his lip and nods, feeling his face go hot at the possessive phrase. _His boy._ “I s’pose mine needs me, too, then.” Louis stands up, stretching his arms out to his sides.

“What is going on with you two?” Zayn asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

Louis shrugs, doing that _thing_ with his face where Zayn can’t tell what he’s thinking. He makes it go all stiff and cold, his boyish charm draining quickly from his expression. “I don’t think we even know. But I do know that I like it. It feels good, he’s excellent at giving head, a kinky little shit, a bit high-maintenance, sure, but it works.”

“God, gross, TMI, Tommo,” Zayn complains, wrinkling his nose a bit. Louis just grins and waves Zayn off.

He makes it to Liam’s school right as they get out, seeing the hoards of students pile out of the door and into sweet, sweet freedom. He spots Liam and waves to him, calling his attention. And god, is it possible that he became somehow more beautiful? He seems to have been exercising more since he got back to school and Zayn can make out his toned, defined muscles underneath his uniform. His hair rests in their natural curly state atop his head. (Zayn kind of wants to bury his face into his hair.) And he’s doing that adorable fucking grin he does, where his eyes crinkle at the corners.

He waves to Zayn, smiling so big, and whispers something quickly to Niall before he dashes off towards Zayn’s motorcycle.

“How was school?” Zayn asks casually as he climbs on and wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist. (Zayn ignores the way his heart starts to beat faster, or the churn in his stomach.)

Liam buries his face into the crook of Zayn’s neck, muttering a quick “Get me out of here, Zed.” Zayn feels his heart drop at his clipped words. His mind is brimming with questions, but he leaves it. He’s seen Liam upset a couple of times and knows the boy keeps it to himself, doesn’t enjoy talking about what he’s feeling. ( _“I just don’t think...it’s as important. We can talk about it some other time, yeah?” Liam had said when Zayn asked about it._ )

When Zayn pulls up to the flat, he starts small talk to maybe get Liam a bit more comfortable. “I bought you some chocolate from the vending machine before I got here, know it’s your favorite,” he says, tossing the bar to him and leading him up the stairs to his apartment.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, eyes cast downwards to where his feet are meticulously climbing the steps. Zayn frowns, another pang of concern.

He opens the door and Liam takes his usual place on Zayn’s beat up couch, curling into himself a bit and looking expectantly at the TV where Zayn always puts on a film for them.

“Hey,” Zayn starts, taking a seat next to Liam. He turns towards the boy and takes his chin between his fingers and makes Liam look at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

The boy’s eyes seem to look everywhere but Zayn’s direction. “Nothing, ‘m fine.”

“ _Leeyum,_ ” Zayn repeats again, knowing all-too-well that he’s lying. There’s a moment of silence, an uncomfortable tension building up as Liam searches for the words. The air seems to still and it leaves a storm brewing around them. Zayn feels the sudden urge to run, lightning running through his veins, thunder in his ears. It’s built in a mere matter of seconds, but to Zayn, it feels like hours. His breath catches in his throat when Liam looks up.

“Please,” Liam whispers. And there’s that look that Zayn’s dreaded. It’s a desperate plea, a call. His eyes are impossibly dark and are laced with the words that Zayn’s wanted to tell him from the very beginning. _Kiss me_ , they say. And he wants to. He’s so tempted to lean forward and capture this boy’s lips with his and tell him it’s okay. He wants to hold him in his arms and play with his hair and tell him he’s appreciated. He wants to eat up this boy’s moans and kiss him until his lips are reddened and bitten and—

He drops his hold from Liam’s chin and he watches as the storm dissipates. He can see the disappointment in Liam’s face, the obvious hurt in his eyes. A question that screams why, but Zayn swears it’s for his own good.

“You can tell me when you’re ready, then,” Zayn says shortly, turning the TV on and avoiding Liam’s eyes. He’s not sure as to why there’s that looming sense of guilt in the pit of his stomach because he did the right thing. Liam doesn’t deserve to have someone impermanent, whose presence is sure to vanish once this...thing they have going on dissolves. Once Liam realizes there’s people past Zayn. Once Liam graduates and moves on to bigger and better things.

The atmosphere isn’t...right. Thirty minutes into the movie and the two of them aren’t cuddled up against each other like they usually are. Zayn attempts to keep his distance because what happened thirty minutes ago wasn’t okay. He can see in his periphery the constant pleas and glances that Liam’s sending him, but he doesn’t break, though it pains him. Eventually, Liam gives up, his gaze becoming focused solely on the movie. His eyebrows are furrowed and jaw clenched and Zayn still feels that guilt for denying the boy. He isn’t exactly sure of what he denied him (he does but Zayn doesn’t want to think about it).

The movie ends and Zayn stands up, yawning. “I guess I should take you home, yeah?”

“Don’t bother,” Liam cuts in, “Harry’s picking me up.” And Zayn feels like he’s been punched in the stomach because he’s always taken Liam home when he visits. It’s the first time he’s seen Liam in weeks and already they’re breaking their usual routine.

“Okay,” Zayn replies, defeated. “Li, you need to tell—”

“Harry’s throwing a party this weekend for my birthday and he wanted me to tell you that you and Lou’re invited. It’s at the same house.” Then Liam leaves.

. . .

He’s barely thirty seconds into the party when he feels a fist grab at his shirt and slam him against the wall.

“I told you,” Harry hisses through grit teeth, “not to break him. What the fuck did you say, Malik? I’ll fucking end you.” Louis grabs Harry from behind, something in between a hold and embrace.

“Babe, baby, calm down. Zayn didn’t do anything, alright? If anything, it’s your boy over there you should be worried about,” he soothes, rubbing at where he’s got his wrists held together. Louis sends Zayn an apologetic look. Harry lets out a short huff and wrestles free from his grasp. He points an accusatory finger at Zayn.

“You’re off the hook for now, but I swear, if I find out this is a lie and you hurt him, you’re gone.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Zayn swears he can see tears gathered at the corners.

“You wanna talk outside?” Zayn offers, motioning to the door. He isn’t angry at Harry, no, he understands. In fact, he’s a bit grateful because at least _someone_ is taking out their anger on him. Liam, on the other hand, has been avoiding him. Avoiding his texts. Avoiding his calls. Zayn wishes that he’d just punch him or get it over with or something, but it’s never that simple with Liam. He’s too used to rolling with the punches rather than dealing them.

“Yeah, yeah, mate,” Harry complies, taking him outside with a sharp exhale. He smooths his suit and takes a step outside, leaving Louis to watch after him with worried eyes. They’re welcomed by the warm August air, a cool breeze here and there. Zayn feels his nerves kick in and he hastily reaches into his pocket for a cigarette. ( _“Nasty habit,” Liam said. Zayn laughed and rolled his eyes, nudging his ankle against Liam’s and took a long drag from it, blowing the smoke away from Liam because he was still a proper gentleman._ )

“I just want to know what happened. He’s been acting funny lately. I mean, I know he hates his birthday in the first place, but this?” Harry scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. Zayn winces a bit when he hears the birthday part.

( _“I’m not very fond of my birthday,” Liam confessed sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned away, distracting himself with the knick-knacks on his dresser. “No one showed up for my 16th birthday party, it was before I was friends with Harry. I was, you know, I was the sick kid. No one wants to be seen with the sick kid.”_ )

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell me.” It’s not really a lie. Liam never told him verbally what he wanted, though Zayn could get a pretty good idea from the look in his eyes.

“He tried to kiss you,” Harry concludes, taking a long look at Zayn. It was unnerving, the way Harry’s eyes bore into him, analyzing his posture and expression.

“No,” Zayn blurts. “Maybe. Yes? Fuck.” Another smoke. Another exhale. Breathe, Zayn, breathe. It’s kind of ironic seeing as cigarettes poison your lungs, but right now, they’re the only things keeping Zayn breathing. He revels in the smoke, the way it consumes him, calms him down. He thinks about how he almost broke the habit just because he didn’t want Liam to catch the smoke, too, didn’t want to ruin his lungs.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes out. “Shit. Let me guess, you stopped him?”

Zayn’s silence is enough of an answer.

“You like him, yeah, Zayn?”

“He’s seventeen.”

“ _Eighteen_ ,” Harry corrects with pointed eyebrows. “He’s been legal but now he’s even more legal, I don’t know. I don’t understand your standards, but, even more so, he’s old enough. He’s not a fucking child.”

“Harry…” Zayn starts, but Harry shoots him one of those looks.

“If you both want it, I don’t understand why you don’t just go for it. Let yourself be happy, Zayn.”

“‘s not that deep,” he mumbles, throwing the cig on the ground and putting it out with his shoe.

“So, if it isn’t, then fine, whatever. Go in there and tell him that he has no chance then, so he doesn’t have to keep embarrassing himself like this and keep pining over you like a fucking kicked puppy. Don’t lead him on,” Harry spits out, eyebrows furrowed and mouth turned downwards.

He opens the door and looks at Zayn expectantly, giving him no choice. Zayn sighs and steps inside the house and goes to look for Liam. He’s talking to some girl that Zayn remembers from his school (She had introduced herself as “Cheryl” when she was called to the front of the class.)

“Liam, can I talk to you?” he asks, cutting into their conversation. Liam’s eyes look over him, as if contemplating what to do.

“Who’s this, Li?” Cheryl asks, her hand playing with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m his—”

“Tutor. He’s my tutor,” Liam interrupts. Cheryl’s eyes travel between the two, narrowing when she knows there’s something more going on.

“I’ll leave you two be.” Her eyes dart to Zayn. “He looks a bit tense.”

And she struts off, hips swaying in an exaggerated motion as she stalks her next victim.

“What the fuck do you want?” Liam asks, gritting his teeth. Zayn flinches, the harsh words resounding in his ears. Liam doesn’t usually curse.

“I’m sorry about...about the other day. Can we, um, talk a bit somewhere more private?” He eyes the seemingly random teenagers dancing around them, almost reminiscent of the party at where he first met Liam.

Liam nods, not letting any sort of emotion show on his face, and leads him up the stairs. “Harry’s room,” he explains. Zayn can tell from the cutouts of various magazines plastered on the wall, varying from new fashion trends to different kale diets and smoothies.

“I’m sorry, Li, I really am. I just, I don’t understand what’s going on and—”

“You know what’s going on.” Liam cuts in. “I made it pretty obvious.” Zayn winces again.

He stutters, “I never—I don’t—I just don’t want this to end badly.”

“It’s not,” Liam argues and he takes a step closer. That’s when Zayn realizes how much taller Liam is than him. Despite being two years younger than him, he’s a good inch or two taller.

“You don’t know that,” Zayn shoots back, a little more desperately. He’s trying, he really is. He can’t give in, despite every nerve in his body yelling at him, too. And there’s the storm again, but this time it’s harsher. His body feels electric, like every hair on his body is standing up. When he looks Liam in the eye, it’s like getting caught in the eye of the storm. It’s riveting and exciting and dangerous.

“What are you so afraid of?” Liam asks, laughing in disbelief. It’s uncharacteristic of him, really, the sarcastic laughter, the frustration, the cursing. And it’s all because of Zayn; fuck, he’s already ruining this boy just by denying him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Zayn admits, looking down at his shoes, scuffing the carpet with them in an attempt to distract himself.

Liam scoffs. “I’m not as weak as you think I am, Zayn, I can handle rejection. Just tell me if you don’t want this and I’ll stop. I’m not stupid. I can’t believe you would think that.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” Zayn tries because no, no. That’s not the message he meant to send. Liam’s not the problem, he’s _never_ the problem.

“Yeah, you do. Everyone does, everyone fucking does. Harry thinks he needs to protect me. Louis looks at me like I’m some...some child. I’m sick of it,” he snaps, his hand pointing at the door as if Louis and Harry were standing right there.

“And I thought,” he continues, shaking his head, “I thought you would understand. Because for the first time I didn’t feel like someone’s liability. I wasn’t the sick kid when I was with you. I felt as if you needed me, and you know, I thought you wanted this too. But now I realize you’re scared.” The words dig into Zayn’s skin. He somehow manages to burn at Zayn’s skin without touching him, and that’s a power Zayn is afraid of.

Another step closer to Zayn. “You’re afraid of this.” Liam’s hands are on his hips. “You’re afraid of us.” Liam pulls Zayn to him; their foreheads touch.

“Liam,” Zayn warns, but it’s more like a plea. It’s a plea for one of them to just fucking get on with it, since they’re this far already. Fuck it, there’s no going back now.

“Prove me wrong,” Liam taunts, their mouths so close that Zayn can feel their breaths mix, can feel how their noses touch. And his hands twitch at his sides because he wants to touch, he wants to give in to his whims. He wants this so bad and he can’t bear the thought of Liam thinking otherwise.

He breaks.

“C’mon, then, c’mon,” Zayn growls, placing his hand on the back of Liam’s neck and pulling him closer. The tension in the air shifts, the storm brewing stronger than ever around them. It’s a thunderstorm, it’s hail, it’s a hurricane that swirls around them to form a perfect chaos.

Liam takes the invitation hungrily, capturing Zayn’s lips in a kiss. And fuck, Zayn didn’t know that Liam would be like this. He’s too used to the shy boy who couldn’t pronounce the word _denouement_ , and that’s why it takes him by surprise how eager Liam is. He’s pushing against Zayn’s hips, digging his fingers in like they’re Liam’s anchor. Zayn knows they’re going to bruise, and he hopes they do. He hopes they leave dark marks that he can push into tomorrow for the reminder that this is real. This is happening. Zayn moans into Liam’s mouth as he feels Liam’s tongue desperately exploring Zayn’s mouth. And shit, Zayn can’t remember a time when he’s wanted it this bad, wanted someone so bad.

He tastes like sugar, like those cookies Liam’s mum always bakes him whenever Zayn came over. It’s a familiar sensation and Zayn can’t help but lick into his mouth. It’s not the smoothest of kisses; their teeth clank against one another as they figure each other out, Liam giving experimental bites at Zayn’s bottom lip which has him almost whimpering with need. They find their rhythm eventually, an easy slide of mouths against each other with tongues dancing.

Liam’s the first to pull back, breathing heavily through his nose as he takes a moment to lick his lips. Like he wants to remember how Zayn tastes. Like he craves it, needs it. Zayn lets out an embarrassing whine at the mere thought of it. But then Liam’s moving down to his neck, his collarbones. Zayn can feel his smirk pressing against his skin. It’s something completely new, something Zayn’s not used to. There’s an aura of confidence brimming off of Liam’s skin as he travels further and further with every nip and kiss. Liam grabs Zayn by the wrists and roughly pins him against the wall.

“Liam,” Zayn moans weakly, his eyes shutting and his head turning to expose more of his neck. Liam leaves a trail of bites as he travels further down. Zayn lets out another whimper as he feels Liam suck hard at the dip in his collarbones.

“Wanna do so much to you, Zed. Want you to do so much to me, too,” Liam murmurs as he sucks another dark mark into Zayn’s skin.

“Fuck,” Zayn groans, thrusting his hips up for more friction. Liam pins his hips down. He’s dizzy with all of this, with Liam’s hands all over him. The times Zayn did imagine this, he always imagined him being the one pushing Liam down. Spreading him open. Splitting him open with his dick and pinning his wrists down and swallowing his moans.

“Be a good boy for me,” Liam admonishes, causing Zayn to still. And fuck, where did that come from? Liam’s wicked, absolutely wicked. “Let’s get this off now.” He tugs at Zayn’s shirt, and Zayn complies easily. He feels exposed, but it’s a good exposure. He loves the heat of Liam’s eyes on him, all on him.

“Please, Li, please,” Zayn begs, struggling against Liam’s tight hold against him. He wants to feel the bruises. He wants to see what Liam’s done to him permanently.

“You made me wait,” Liam argues as he kisses a path to Zayn’s nipple, “so now you can wait.”  
He plays with Zayn’s nipples, pinching and pulling at them until Zayn’s body is squirming underneath him.

“Li,” he pants. “Liam, please, fuck,”

“So pretty,” Liam whispers, finally taking pity on Zayn and giving a harsh nip to the puffy bud. He sucks hard on it and Zayn’s knees almost buckle.

His hand then trails down his stomach, playing with the wiry trail of hair that leads to the obvious bulge in his tight jeans.

“You don’t,” he pauses for breath, “have to.” Zayn’s eyes are still screwed shut, too overwhelmed by this feeling of Liam all over him.

“Want to,” Liam murmurs, voice hoarse and deep from being so turned on. He grips at the bulge, moaning as he does so because Zayn’s so fucking hard.

He unbuttons Zayn’s jeans and yanks them to his knees, almost drooling at the sight of his hard cock pressing against his boxers. His fingertips dance at the waistband, dipping in ever so slightly, and pulling out. Zayn tries to mask his frustration, just fights against Liam’s grip to thrust his hips forward.

It eventually works as he feels the rest of his clothes being torn down, and he lets out a sweet sigh of relief as Liam’s big hand wraps around his cock. The head is already glistening with precome. “So hard f’ me. All wet and messy for me?” He plays with the tip, a finger sliding over the slit and collecting all the shiny liquid. Zayn’s jaw drops with the teasing, a mantra of _moremoremore_ playing over and over again.

He brings it to Zayn’s mouth and pushes his finger in. Zayn groans as he tastes his tangy flavor on his tongue, sucking hard and desperately because he wants this. He wants to please Liam, wants to be so good for him.

“Good boy,” he praises, using Zayn’s saliva to slicken his cock. “Such a pretty cock to go with such a pretty face, yeah?” And fuck, Liam’s mouth is so dirty and Zayn never knew. The boy is the actual devil, with his warm brown eyes so inviting, but words so sinful.

“How bad have you wanted this, Zayn?” He tugs on Zayn’s cock lightly with slow strokes.

Zayn bites on his bottom lip, trying so hard to keep in the embarrassing moans. He’s almost to the point of drawing blood when he feels Liam stop completely and get a tight grip at the base of his cock. It makes Zayn lose a bit of his composure, not that there was much of it to begin with.

“This won’t work if you don’t say something, baby,” Liam purrs, and Zayn gasps at the pet name, his cock giving a weak twitch. He gives in; his need to come outweighing his self control.

“Fuck, so bad, wanted you so bad, Li. Imagined th-this for weeks.” He chokes on his breath as Liam fists his cock faster.

“Yeah?” Liam grunts, focusing on the motion of his hand. “Open your eyes for me, Z, get a good look.” Zayn takes a look, and fuck, he regrets it. He lets out another lewd moan at the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing so quickly into Liam’s closed fist.

“I bet you’ve wanted to get off to this for so long, hm? You wished your fist could’ve been my hole, yeah? Or maybe you thought of it the other way around? Maybe you wanted my cock to fuck into you, have you begging for mercy or for more. A right cockslut,” Liam hisses against Zayn’s ear.. He nips at his earlobe.

Zayn groans wantonly as he thrusts his hips forward for more, more, more. “Wan’ it, need it. ‘Ve thought about my cock in you, f-fuck, thought about sucking you down, God, maybe even y’ cock in me. Wondered what you taste like, and, oh, fuck, Liam, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Come for me, come all over my fist like a good boy,” Liam demands and Zayn’s spilling all over Liam’s fist with a loud moan of “fuck me, Liam.”

Liam strokes him through it, whispering, “That’s right, baby, I got you”, and helping him come down. Zayn’s panting against Liam’s shoulder, leaning on him for support.

“Fuck,” he grunts, voice hoarse and spent. “Shit.”

Liam chuckles, “Shit indeed.”

Zayn collects himself, humiliated at how turned on he got by that. “You want me to,” he clears his throat, “want me to take care of you?” He motions at Liam’s obvious bulge in his jeans. Instead, Liam shakes his head.

“I can take care of m’self. Just sort of wanted that.” And Zayn knows he’s got Liam back, how, even with sex, Liam’s more focused on pleasing other people rather than himself.

“So,” Zayn starts in an attempt to break the tension, “a better birthday than your sixteenth?”

Liam lets out a loud laugh at that, reddened cheeks pushed upwards. “Yeah, definitely. Here, let’s get you cleaned up and make sure none of our guests heard that.” Zayn’s face still burns from the embarrassment; he can’t believe that just happened.

“Yeah, um, yeah,” he replies awkwardly, rubbing his face.

Liam’s hand comes to rest gently on Zayn’s cheek, looking deep into his eyes. “We’re good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, nodding his head. “We’re good.”

“You’re okay with...all of this?” Liam asks, motioning between the two of them. Zayn smiles and pulls him in for a chaste kiss. It’s quick and dry, but there’s something so satisfying about it.

“Is that good enough of an answer?”

Liam grins sheepishly, a blush crawling on his cheeks. “Definitely.”

“Next time, though, you’ll be begging me to come.” Liam’s jaw drops as Zayn saunters out of the room, pleased with himself.

. . .

A couple days after the party, Zayn tries his hardest to avoid Louis, knowing that he can never ever keep a secret from that boy. He knows Zayn far too well; it’s borderline terrifying, actually.

“I want details, Malik,” Louis demands pointedly, trapping Zayn as he walked through the park on his way to another session with Liam. “Tell me how the puppy was!”

Zayn rolls his eyes, frustrated because he had tried his hardest to avoid Louis because he kind of didn’t want to talk to his best mate about his sex life, thank you very much. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon, Malik, we know you get that _look_ on your face after you’ve gotten some. Frankly, it’s disgusting because it’s a hazy sort of ‘ _I just got shagged_ ’ daze in your eyes, but I deserve to know since I’m your best friend. I tell you all the details about my sex with Harry, so you can spill, too!”

Zayn chuckles, “But I never asked for the details about Harry’s...uh...ability at giving head. You just like talking about your boyfriend blowing you.”

Louis’s eyes narrow. “Not my boyfriend,” he says shortly. Zayn looks amused at Louis, nodding his head, because right, Louis Tomlinson doesn’t date.

“Then what is he, a fuckbuddy?”

“Don’t call him that either,” Louis argues. “He’s not that.”

“But he’s not a boyfriend either?” Zayn asks, raising his eyebrows.

“This isn’t an interrogation last time I checked, Zee,” Louis retorts. “I remember asking you for the details about your relationship, not mine.”

“So it is a relationship,” Zayn concludes.

“I don’t know what the fuck it is, alright. He’s, fuck, he’s confusing as shit. Most hook-ups just like calling for a quick shag and then leave, but he stays around. We went out to the movies the other day and nothing happened. No dirty talk, no ‘fuck me daddy’, no sly handjobs in the back of the theatre.”

“Okay, ew,” Zayn interrupts, but Louis pays no attention.

“He doesn’t make sense, Zayn, this doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s because he’s not just another shag, Lou, he’s got importance. Meaning.” Louis seems to visibly recoil at that. “And I know how your last relationship went, but Harry’s different, right?”

“Sure, yeah, I guess,” Louis grumbles, defeated.

“Maybe you should talk it out with Harry, ask him what the hell you guys are doing,” Zayn suggests.

“Yeah, I might—I will. I will. Fuck, Zee, if I weren’t committed to this boy and his Godlike mouth, I’d kiss you right now,” Louis deadpans.

“I’ll pass on that.”

“Don’t think you’re so slick, Malik, I’ll have you spill one way or another.” Zayn just nods.

“Sure you will, Lou, now go confess your feelings.” But by then Louis has already bolted off in the direction of his car with a loud “Fuck you, Malik!”

. . .

“You’re okay with me..being here?” Liam asks as he casually lounges on Zayn’s couch, popping another chip into his mouth.

Zayn chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Babe, we’ve had this conversation before. You’re welcome at the flat any time.”

“I-I know, I just don’t wanna bother you, you know? You’ve got important work to do and I don’t want to-”

“C’mon, what happened to that confident Liam from the party a couple nights ago?” Zayn teases, biting his tongue as he watches Liam fidget under his gaze.

“Yeah, well,” Liam retorts, “that Liam was also slightly tipsy and running on a different kind of confidence known as his libido.”

“I don’t know,” Zayn comments, “it was pretty hot.” He draws a couple more lines, glancing up and taking in Liam’s features. He’s almost like a perfectly chiseled statue, with his clean cut jaw and strong biceps and lips cherry red.

“Was it?” Liam asks, mouth quirked up at the side. He also seems to be the only one who can make Zayn lose his self-control so quickly.

“Oh, fuck you,” Zayn mumbles. Some quick shading, touch up the eyes. It’s so hard to capture Liam’s face. Every drawing is mediocre next to the subject in its actual form.

He’s ripped out of his thoughts, though, when Liam says, “Not opposed to that, was always a bit versatile m’self.”

Zayn nearly chokes. “S-sorry?”

Liam’s got a nasty smirk plastered onto his face, his eyes dark like it always gets when he talks about sexual things. “Always wondered who would top in this relationship.”

Zayn’s fingers twitch, the pencil almost snapping with the amount of pressure he puts on it. He hears Liam giggle. “Oh God, you’re proper turned on by this, aren’t you?” his voice dropping in volume, like it does when he mutters dirty words into Zayn’s ear during a handjob.

“Liam,” Zayn pleads, feeling him grow hard in his pants just from Liam’s voice. And fuck, when did Zayn become such a horny teenager? How does this boy have this effect on him? He hears the couch creak as Liam approaches him.

Zayn looks up and his eyes meet those comforting dark browns, the ones he’s gotten so accustomed to. Liam bites his lip and slowly removes the pencil from Zayn’s hand, placing it off to the side. He picks up the sketchbook, his mouth turning upwards at the corner as he sees a rough sketch of him on the paper.

“‘s good,” he murmurs dumbly and Zayn can’t help but giggle because Liam can go from this smooth talking devil to a shy teenager in a matter of seconds.

Zayn sighs and replies, “Just kiss me already, you idiot.” Liam’s legs bracket Zayn’s waist as he takes a seat in his lap, leaning forward to kiss him. And Zayn, fuck, he loves this. He loves the feeling of Liam’s lips on his, how they’re always slick and wet like he spends so much time biting them. He loves Liam’s taste, always sweet since Liam never stops eating candies. He loves the energy behind each kiss, like Liam can’t get enough of Zayn.

Zayn’s hand finds its comfortable place on Liam’s hip, one of his favorite places. The other finds its way to Liam’s chin, cradling his face gently. Liam moans at the soft touch, nuzzling his cheek into the side of his hand and he keens under the attention. He kisses with more intent, licking eagerly into Zayn’s mouth shifting on his lap.

Zayn groans at the friction, pushing his hips upward for more. “Fuck,” he curses against Liam’s mouth as he pulls back to breathe. Liam peppers his face with kisses, moving to his neck. His hand fiddles with Zayn’s belt, tugging it off and throwing it to the side.

“Li,” Zayn warns, but Liam ignores him, pulling on his jeans. He lifts his hips up to give Liam better access and before he knows it, his jeans and pants are shucked down to his knees and Liam’s right there in between them. He looks up at Zayn with this willingness and trust, and fuck, Zayn’s falling so hard.

“Can I?” he asks timidly, and Zayn forgets that Liam’s like this in bed, too. He can be so confident but so unsure, so dominant yet so submissive.

“Fuck, yes, baby, yes,” Zayn stutters, his hand instinctively reaching for Liam’s hair, the other to his cock to guide it to Liam’s mouth. “So, so good for me.” He lines his dick up to Liam’s mouth, rubbing it over his face and spreading his pre-come. Liam darts his tongue out to get a taste, his eyes closing as he laps at the tip tentatively, shoulders relaxing with every word of praise that drips out of Zayn’s mouth.

“That’s it, get a good taste,” Zayn murmurs, eyes fixated on Liam’s tongue fervently licking at Zayn’s cock. “Eyes open, babe.” He watches Liam’s eyes blink open and make eye contact with Zayn. He lets out a groan because Liam manages to look so innocent and obscene. A true talent. Zayn’s fingers run over the plane of Liam’s face, admiring the stubble that’s grown there.

“Gonna feed you m’ cock now, baby, cause you always take it so well,” Zayn says in a hushed tone, loving the glazed look in Liam’s eyes, how he can just give up control so easily to Zayn when just a few nights ago Zayn had been pinned down by him. Liam opens his mouth, wide and wanting, taking each inch of Zayn so, so well and fluttering his eyelashes when Zayn hits the back of his throat. He breathes harshly through his nose as he relaxes his jaw, swallowing further around Zayn until his nose is pressed against the flat of Zayn.

“Fuck, baby,” Zayn moans, amazed by Liam. “Can y’ touch yourself f’ me? Come as you get me off?”

Liam just hums around Zayn’s cock, closing his eyes and pulling back to suck the tip into his mouth. Zayn glances down and watches as Liam’s hand tentatively reaches to the growing bulge in his pants, getting himself off, pumping himself to the same rhythm as he bobs his head up and down.

“Yeah? You love my cock that much, baby? Choke on it for me, Liam, that’s it,” Zayn urges, his hand pressing on the back of Liam’s head and forcing him to go down again. He yanks back on his hair and makes him pull off with a pop!, spit dribbling down his chin. Liam only lets out a whine of complaint, pushing forward to suck Zayn down again, but Zayn’s grip on his hair is firm.

“Don’t be greedy now,” Zayn tuts with a smirk. He gets Liam into a nice rhythm, the boy eagerly bouncing his head up and down and moaning like he gets off on Zayn’s taste. Probably does.

Zayn groans as he feels himself get pushed closer and closer to the edge. Liam notices, by the tightening grip in his hair and Zayn’s heavy breathing. He opens his mouth wide, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes expectantly. Zayn lets out a curse as he jerks his cock eagerly, aiming for Liam’s tongue.

He spills all over Liam’s face with a loud moan, painting his face and tongue with his come. Liam opens his eyes as he feels the first spurts cover his cheek, licking eagerly around his lips to get a better taste. Liam’s hand is working himself quickly in his pants, letting out a whine as he comes.

“Good boy,” Zayn smiles, using his thumb to wipe around Liam’s cheek and push more come inside his mouth. Liam eagerly sucks the digit into his mouth like it’s a lolly. “Always so pretty f’ me, so good f’ me. C’mon, let’s clean you up.”

. . .

Zayn sits at Liam’s dining table, waiting for the boy to come downstairs. He makes small talk with Karen as they wait.

“I really do have to thank you, though,” she says suddenly with a knowing smile as she dries the dishes. “Liam’s never been good at keeping secrets.”

He feels the heat rise to his face because, are they really that obvious? “‘m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Payne. I apologise.”

Karen scowls playfully. “Don’t lie to me, Zaynie!” He glows a bit under the nickname. “I know my Lemur best, and I’m glad it was you. I knew you were a good egg the moment you stepped through that door and ate up my cookies like it was your first meal in days.”

He laughs fondly at the memory, wrinkling his nose a bit to think that time passes so quickly, having met Liam all those months ago. “I really hope you don’t mind,” he replies, finally surrendering the charade. “I was a bit reluctant at first.”

“Why is that?” she asks curiously, taking no offense whatsoever.

“He’s just...young. I don’t want to take anything away from him, steal his last year before he’s off to university. You don’t get that time back, you know? I was never a hardworking student, just doing what I could to get by. But your son? Liam...he’s incredible.” And it’s at that moment that Zayn realises how gone he is for this boy. He feels his heart beat faster at the mere mention of his name, and fuck, Zayn’s pathetic, isn’t he? How did Zayn manage to catch feelings so quickly for a boy he met a couple months ago?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Karen replies. “Oh my, and I thought Liam was hard on himself,” she jokes. “Zayn Malik, you’re good enough for my boy. I know it. I wouldn’t have let you in if I’d thought otherwise. Both of you help each other, whether you realise it or not. Stick with the people who better you, Zayn. I’m not forcing you to date my boy, but I know that he helps you do wonders. And you help him as well.”

Zayn doesn’t question her, though he doesn’t completely get what she’s saying. They hear Liam stomp loudly down the stairs, his backpack hung over his shoulder and an excited grin on his face.

“Let’s go, ba—” He catches himself. “Zayn,” he corrects, a faint blush dusted onto his rounded cheeks.

Zayn grins, pushing his tongue against his teeth because he just can’t help but love a flustered Liam. “Yeah, babe,” he whispers against his cheek before planting a kiss on it.

. . .

With the exception of Louis, Zayn’s proud of him and Liam for keeping their relationship under the radar. The five of them are at Nando’s, Zayn and Louis in one side of the booth and Niall, Harry, and Liam in the other.

“Nialler, when was the last time you got shagged?” Louis asks crassly, breaking the silence that had fallen over their table after the food had been brought out.

Harry shoots Louis a look, but just receives a blunt shrug from Louis.

Niall laughs genuinely and takes another bite out of his chicken. “Not interested in that, mate.”

Zayn quirks an eyebrow. “Not interested? In what, sex?”

Liam opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but shuts it quickly.

“Yeah, actually!” Niall confirms. He doesn’t seem bothered about it, almost as if he gets the question a lot. “Sex, relationships, the like. Never interested me. The only thing I’d ever wanna fuck is my guitar. Lots of pretty lasses and lads out there, but not f’ me!”

“Niall’s aroace,” Harry says, an attempt to clear the situation. “Just like how I’m gay and Liam’s…”

“Bi,” Liam finishes, confident with the word. Zayn feels a swell of pride in his chest because he knows. He knows the feeling of confidence associated with your identity. After years of confusion and not understanding who he was, he knows that feeling of clarity and relief when you find something you identify with.

He can’t help but grin at Liam, filled to the brim with admiration and pride because fuck, that boy deserves everything. Liam catches his eye and a faint blush colors his cheeks, and he starts smiling wide. And Zayn, he’s trying to memorize every detail of this because he wants this image burned into his mind, Liam smiling like he can’t stop. He’s also trying to remember when he started to fall this hard for this boy.

“Oi, can you two fuckers stop looking at each other like that?” Louis complains, whacking Zayn on the side of the head. He flinches and rubs the side of his head with a glare.

“Aw, Loulou, let them have their fun,” Harry cooes.

Liam mouths to Zayn, _Loulou_?

Zayn shrugs.

Niall just sits there amused, but not looking at any of the boys; instead, he’s looking at his chicken lovingly. “Glad you two sorted out yer shite,” he mutters happily to himself, another mouthful of chicken.

“Sorry?” Louis asks.

Another bite. “You get that fond look on your face,” Niall continues in between chewing, “you know the little upturned smile whenever Harry does something.”

Harry blushes and Louis just—”Yeah! That’s the one.”

“And you,” Niall says, pointing his fork at Harry, “you do the opposite. It’s a scrunchie look, you wrinkle your nose like Louis sickens you when it’s the exact opposite. You’re utterly endeared by the little shit, but you get all frowny and your nose wrinkles and you crinkle your eyes.”

“Shouldn’t do it tho,” Niall continues, chewing a bit obnoxiously at this point, “‘s not good for yer eyes. Get t’ wrinkles round ‘em, all crow’s feet and summat.”

Both are blushing at this point and Zayn can’t help but grin because he doesn’t remember the last time he’s seen Louis like this. It’s like he’s sixteen again and utterly in love, back when he was like a walking Disney advertisement with far too tight skinny jeans and bright suspenders that put everyone’s eyes on him.

“Dating is a good look for t’ two of you,” Niall comments. “Now you two are really somethin’ else, aren’t’cha?”

Niall shakes his head, scandalized, and turns to Liam.

“Wouldn’t even realize it if it bloody feckin’ hit y’ in the face,” he scoffs, half-joking, half-serious.

Liam opens his mouth to answer, but Zayn gets there first. “It’s nothin’ serious, trust me, Niall. ‘M not gonna corrupt your boy, okay?”

He means it as a joke, but, does he? Liam might have told him it was okay, that they were okay, but there was a small part in the back of Zayn’s mind telling him that he shouldn’t be doing this. That he shouldn’t rob Liam of all his precious moments as a teenager. Besides, it’s not like they’ve really defined what they are. The scene at the party was just a confirmation of their feelings, but Liam never stated what he wanted. Zayn’s not risking it, not wanting to delve into that conversation.

He sees in his periphery that Liam’s looking at him with a question in his eyes, but he just stares down at his plate.

Niall narrows his eyes a bit, before clearing his throat. “Waitress! More food, please?”

. . .

“Z-Zayn, the lads are right outside the—fuck—the door,” Liam pants out, his hands grasping at the wall for some sort of anchor as Zayn pulls off with a pop, a thin string of saliva trailing from his lip to Liam’s shiny cock. Liam bites down on his bottom lip to keep in his embarrassing moans.

“Let them hear,” Zayn says against Liam’s cock, voice already gravelly and hoarse. “Love it when you get all loud because of me, babe. Let them know how good I make you feel, how bad you need my mouth.” He presses kisses on the underside of Liam’s cock, rolling his balls in one hand while the other presses against Liam’s thigh.

“F-fuck,” Liam stutters out, trying hard to keep from thrusting into Zayn’s mouth. He gives little kitten licks to the head of his cock, admiring how red the tip is and playing with the foreskin with fascination.

“C’mon, babe, you know I hate it when you don’t look at me,” Zayn murmurs.

He looks up at Liam with a smirk, not daring to break eye contact as he suckles the tip of Liam’s dick into his mouth, licking over the slit. His hands moved to the swell of Liam’s arse, gripping at the flesh there.

“Shit, Zayn, can you—oh, fuck,” Liam whimpers as Zayn’s hand trails Liam’s crack before lightly brushing his hole.

He pulls off. “What d’ you want, Li? Didn’t quite catch that.” He grins as Liam struggles to find the words to ask him, loves doing this to Liam. It’s the way his brows knit, the way his mouth drops open out of pure pleasure, the way his lips seem to get this darker shade of red from biting them so much. “You want my fingers in you, Leeyum?”

Liam seems to love the idea of that, his eyes wrenched shut and the tip of his cock blurting fat drops of precome. He reaches for the lube from his back pocket and drizzles it onto his finger before he starts to tease at Liam’s entrance, pulling his cock back into his mouth and bobbing his head.

“God, Zayn, fuck, your mouth,” Liam slurs, trying to form a sentence but failing to. Zayn presses his fingertip ever so slightly into Liam, causing his hips to jerk forward and pushing his cock further into Zayn’s mouth. He keeps his cool, though, managing not to choke on it. He pushes his finger in further, two knuckles deep, and fuck, Liam’s so tight, almost as if…

“Have y’ never fingered yourself before?” Zayn asks roughly with his properly fucked out voice. He watches Liam’s expression, the way his cheeks are tinged with that red. The confirmation makes Zayn moan because he’s the first to see Liam fall apart like this on his fingers, the first to make him come with just fingers, the first to explore his tight, pretty hole.

“N-no,” Liam bites out as Zayn’s finger explores him more, poking and prodding until he finds—”Oh _shit_ , Zayn, again, _please_.”

“Found it,” he whispers, pride lacing his words. He licks eagerly at Liam’s slit, getting off on Liam’s salty taste as he pushes again and again at that bundle of nerves. Choked moans leave Liam’s mouth as he strains to hold his hips still. Zayn traces the rim with a second finger, teasing at his entrance.

“Let the lads know how much of a slut you are for gettin’ fingerfucked, Liam,” he presses. “You’re so tight around my fingers, Liam. Bet my cock would fill you up even better, though, fucking you until you’re screaming my name, ‘til you can’t hold back your words. Maybe have you ride me cock—”

“I’m gonna, f-fuck, Zayn,” Liam cries out before he shoots off in Zayn’s mouth. Zayn stands up quickly, eagerly pulling Liam in for a kiss.

He tongues at the seam of Liam’s lips, giving him the hint to open up. Zayn feeds Liam his own come, tongue forcing it into the younger’s mouth with finesse and ease. They kiss like that for a bit, Liam tasting himself on Zayn’s tongue, his hand reaching down to stroke Zayn quick, quick, quick, before he comes in between them.

They walk out of the bathroom with flushed faces as the boys share knowing looks between themselves.

. . .

The lights of the stadium burn hot on Zayn’s skin, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are too busy watching Liam on the field. Zayn doesn’t know shit about American football or even sports in general, but he knows they can be dangerous. That’s why his fingernails are digging into Niall’s skin and leaving behind crescent moons as he watches people ram into Liam.

“That’s not allowed, is it?” Zayn hisses. “That can’t possibly be allowed.” Niall looks at him, a fond look in his eyes.

“It is,” he says. “Don’t worry, Payno’s a strong one.”

After thirty more painful minutes of the game, it finally ends and Zayn and Niall rush down to the field. He makes Liam out among the crowd of footballers and runs to him. Zayn grabs at his helmet and is relieved to see that same dorky grin with eyes that make the sun self-conscious.

“Did fucking amazing out there, babe,” Zayn says, tickling under his chin. Liam shrugs, smiling a bit and shaking his head.

“Decent.” There’s something in his eyes that Zayn can’t pin, the way they twinkle with that mischief that reminds him a bit of Louis. His hair flops in his eyes, messy curls fussed with sweat. It makes Zayn’s heart swoop a little, the way Liam looks at him with such attention and care, but this time it’s laced with something more.

. . .

“Keep the snapback on,” Liam orders, diving back into the kiss and nibbling on Zayn’s bottom lip. He’s pushed against the wall of his own flat, wrists held above his head by Liam’s strong grip. Liam’s sweaty curls are flattened against his forehead, flopping dramatically whenever Liam moves to a different place to kiss Zayn.

“Why, babe? Does it do somethin’ for you?” Zayn teases, feeling the bill of the hat push against the wall.

“Wanna fuck you in it,” Liam murmurs against his burning skin, hands squeezing at Zayn’s ass. His words die off in his throat because Zayn and Liam haven’t fucked yet. It’s just been messy blowjobs and kiddish handjobs.

“F-fuck, yeah, yeah, okay,” he stutters out, faulting in finding the words because Liam’s pulling him up by his thighs. He instinctively wraps them around Liam’s waist and draws him in for another kiss because he loves Liam’s lips, loves the way they feel against his. He loves their color, how red they always get after they kiss, how he always licks at them. He tugs off his shirt, managing to keep the snapback on.

Liam leads them to Zayn’s bedroom, laying him down on the bed. Zayn hurriedly takes off his boxers, tossing them to the floor and waits patiently with his hard cock resting on his belly. Liam takes a step back to take off his shirt and Zayn watches, propped up by his elbows. Zayn loves the way Liam looks, the ripple of his muscles, his taut nipples, the splay of hair on his chest and the trail that leads down to the bulge in his joggers.

And Zayn doesn’t miss the change in Liam, how shy he used to be when they used to do this. He used to refuse to turn on the light, always insisted that Zayn didn’t look at him when he jerked him off or blew him. But now, he doesn’t shy away from it. He looks something like a god, with the way the moonlight peeking through the window dances across his skin. He struts up to the bed, casting a shadow over Zayn’s body and gazing at his vulnerable form.

He beams out confidence and Zayn loves it.

“Hands and knees,” he demands, voice deep with want. Zayn complies easily, pushing out his arse a bit just to tempt him further. Liam lets out a growl when he sees Zayn’s position.

“Like what you see?” Zayn bites out with a smirk, that smirk getting wiped away when he feels Liam grab roughly at his ass. He pulls apart his cheeks to reveal his tight hole, clenching around nothing from pure anticipation.

“So pretty,” Liam murmurs before leaning forward and blowing hot breath across it. “Want you to get loud f’ me, want everyone to hear how loud you get for daddy.” Zayn mewls at that, eyes squeezing shut as Liam bites at the flesh of his cheek. They’ve discussed it before, the kinks, the dirty talk in bed, and Zayn knew Liam had a thing for that. It just takes him by surprise, the way the word rolls smoothly off his tongue.

“Please,” Zayn manages to get out, his vocabulary seemingly reduced to whimpers and begs. He squirms against Liam’s hold, trying to hold still.

“Yeah?” Liam asks with his silky voice. He presses a wet kiss against Zayn’s hole and Zayn lets out a cry at the contact. Liam kitten licks at Zayn’s entrance, short licks that get Zayn wet enough. He’s trying to fight back the embarrassing whines but they seem to escape his mouth. The only other sound is the wet smack of Liam’s tongue on Zayn’s hole.

“Taste so good, baby,” Liam grunts out, fingers digging into Zayn’s ass to get a better grip. His stubble rubs against Zayn’s ass, making it that much more sensitive. Liam switches to broad upward strokes, moaning as if Zayn’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, which makes Zayn that much harder. He feels his cock leaking with every kiss and lick, feeling the rough way Liam’s stubble scrapes at his flesh.

Zayn’s muscles feel weak, weak from the intense pleasure of Liam’s tongue that he slumps forward a bit, resting his head on his arms. He can feel Liam’s cocky smirk against his skin and Liam pulls back to admire his work, teasing a thumb at the messy hole. Saliva dribbles down from the puckered entrance, Liam opening his mouth to let more fall from his mouth to his hole. He leans forward to catch all of it falling out before pushing it back in with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, daddy,” Zayn groans out, not thinking twice about the word. He can’t find time to feel embarrassed about it when Liam’s fucking his tongue into him like that, short, quick thrusts. The ring of muscle squeezes tight around his tongue, loving this foreign feeling inside of him. It’s the stretch of it, the way Liam’s tongue is wet and slick inside of him so he’s not uncomfortable.

“More, fuck, more,” he pleads, practically riding Liam’s tongue with the way he moves his hips, how he pushes back on his tongue to get him deeper. He feels so wet, knows already how shiny his hole should be about now. He angles his head slightly, just enough to see Liam cupping his cock as he licks Zayn out and it’s one of the hottest things Zayn’s ever seen. Liam’s so fucking turned on by eating Zayn out, by his taste—he’s doing that all to Liam.

Liam pulls back, ignoring the protest that comes from Zayn’s mouth, and grabs at his ankles, spreading them across the bed. “Get y’ legs nice and wide f’ me, there you go.” Zayn feels so exposed like this, can feel the cool air tickle at his hole, his balls drawn tight from the need to come, his hard cock leaking against the sheets.

Liam rubs at Zayn’s entrance before pushing a finger in, reveling in the slick noises that his finger makes. “So wet for me, aren’t you, Zayn?”

“All for you,” Zayn whispers shamelessly, thighs quivering at the intrusion. He loves the way Liam’s finger is so thick, how big they are when they push against his walls. He feels a second finger at his entrance, stretching him even further. The burn is there, but it mixes in with the pleasure, fat drops of precome dropping from Zayn’s cock.

“What do you say when daddy gives you more?” Liam growls, massaging Zayn’s ass with his free hand.

“Thank you,” Zayn chokes out, impossibly turned on by Liam’s mouth, the words that spill from it. Suddenly, a sharp slap rings through the air and Zayn lets out an embarrassing, high-pitched moan.

“Again,” Liam demands, kneading at his reddened ass.

“Thank you.” Another slap. “Fuck, thank you.” Another. “Thank you, thank you,” Zayn cries out, grinding on the sheets for an ounce of relief.

“Such a slut for it, Zaynie. Go on, grind on the sheets f’ me, show me how bad you need my cock.”

“Need it bad,” he babbles, as Liam pushes in a third finger and relentlessly fingerfucks him. Zayn’s cock rubs against the sheets with a nearly painful friction as the sheer force of Liam’s fingers causes his body to rock against the bed. It’s overwhelming for Zayn, the way his body feels like it’s being consumed by the flames when in actuality it’s all from Liam. It’s the way Liam’s muscles bulge as he screws his fingers in deeper, how the dirty talk rolls off his tongue so easily when a month ago he would’ve blushed at the mere mention of sex. Zayn was able to watch all of that happen, able to see Liam take the world by storm.

But then he sees the coffee stain birthmark on his neck, the same kiss bitten rosy lips, the puppy dog eyes from the party and Zayn still sees Liam, his Liam.

“Almost there, sweetheart, taking my fingers so well,” Liam promises, kissing at the abused skin of his ass in that Liam-like way. The kiss is so soft and gentle, so unfitting for the situation.

He gasps when he feels Liam’s hands on him again, cupping his balls and rolling them, feeling how hot and heavy they are in his hand.

He pulls his fingers out of Zayn, pleased to see him push back and the way his stretched hole clenches around nothing. “Y’ gonna ride me, Zee?”

Fuck yeah he is. There’s the sound of a condom wrapper being opened and Zayn’s body is thrumming with anticipation. He loves feeling the way Liam manhandles him, how rough and how strong he can be. Liam’s moved to the headboard of the bed, his cock thick and hard and shiny with precome.

Zayn eagerly moves to him, pressing their bodies together and Zayn remembers he still has the snapback on. “Look so good for me, darling,” Liam murmurs, hands going to Zayn’s waist, not to hold, but just to linger.

Zayn closes his eyes, head tipped back as he grabs at Liam’s cock, lining it up with his entrance. Their breaths hitch when he feels the head push in. He sits on Liam’s cock slowly, trying to relish in the way his cock stretches and fills him in with every inch he takes.

“God, baby, so tight, you’re so fucking tight, Zayn,” he mumbles before cautiously thrusting up into the tight heat of Zayn.

He lets out a broken moan at that, and Liam does it again and again, pushing against that spot. Zayn rests his forehead on Liam’s shoulder, biting at the flesh there as Liam fucks into him hard. His hands struggle to grab at something, anything, until they find the headboard.

“Y’ like it?” Liam asks.

“Fuck, yes,” Zayn whines out, burying his face into Liam’s neck and kissing at his skin.

“Who,” Liam starts, dicking into Zayn to punctuate his words, “makes you feel this good?”

“You, Liam,” Zayn cries out breathlessly as Liam rabbits into his prostate. “Only you--shit, deeper, man, please,”

“Say it again,” Liam demands, grabbing both of Zayn’s wrists and holding them above his head. Zayn wriggles his hips, aching for more contact, more friction, just more.

“Liam,” he whispers out, his cock curved upwards, neglected and leaking, red at the head.

“Good boy,” Liam grunts before capturing Zayn’s mouth in a kiss, keeping his hands held above his head as he screws into him faster and harder. Zayn’s panting hard and crying out a soft chant of _daddy please Liam harder faster need you_.

Liam keeps one hand holding Zayn’s above his head while the other moves to his cock to jerk him in time with his thrusts. “Don’t come until I say,” he warns Zayn, who lets out another whine at his words.

“Need to come, need to come so bad,” Zayn pleads, the muscles on his stomach rippling as he tries to hold back, not wanting to disappoint Liam.

Liam bites at the shell of Zayn’s ear before whispering, “Come for me, baby,” and Zayn’s mouth drops open, lost for words by the violence of his orgasm. He coats their stomachs with his come, Liam coming not too long after him. Zayn’s left panting into Liam’s neck, grinning madly against his collarbone.

Liam pulls out of him and Zayn frowns at the sudden emptiness. “So that was something,” Liam comments nonchalantly, the scent of sex still heavy in the air. He lovingly kisses at Zayn’s cheek before toying with his snapback.

“Porn?” Zayn asks. Liam chuckles and nods, shedding the sex persona he had so skillfully put on. There’s a fierce blush on his cheeks and an embarrassed grin that Zayn can’t help but fond over.

“Lots and _lots_ of porn,” Liam admits.

“C’mon you big lug, let’s get you cleaned up,” Zayn says, dragging the two of them to the shower for what he hopes is round two.

. . .

“I used to be a baker, you know,” Harry’s deep voice drawls. “I think I know how to do this.” Louis and Harry are causing a ruckus in Zayn’s kitchen while the three of them wait patiently for the cupcakes.

“I’m hungry, can we hurry this up?” Liam complains, cuddled into Zayn’s side and eyes trained on the movie. Niall’s on Zayn’s right, content with his chips and beer.

“Excuse you, Liam. My baking takes time,” Harry snaps. He proceeds to meticulously measure the sugar down to the grain, the ridiculous hat on his hat slumping forward as he does so.

“Are you quite finished there, Hazza? I see a whole lot of talking and not enough baking,” Louis retaliates, his cheek white with the flour Harry had thrown there earlier. His apron is a mess, splattered with baking soda and food dye.

“Perfection takes time, sweetcheeks,” Harry retorts, adjusting the chef’s hat atop his head. “We would be finished by now if you had known how to whisk properly.” They continue to take quips at each other, their banter becoming background noise for Zayn.

“T’ two of ‘em are like a married couple,” Niall comments. “It’s bloody disgusting.” Zayn chuckles, watching as Louis dabs his finger in the chocolate frosting and paints it onto Harry’s nose. The sight isn’t all that familiar to Zayn, this carefree and giggly Louis. He’s used to Louis Tomlinson, skinny jeans, band t-shirts, and beanies. But Zayn swears he can see that sparkle in his eyes like he did when he first met him.

( _“Tomlinson, Louis,” the boy greets, blue eyes piercing through his dodgy bowl haircut. Zayn had drifted to him, unsure if it was consciously or unknowingly. He stuck out like a sore thumb with his bright red skinnies, striped t-shirt, and suspenders._

_Zayn takes his hand warily and muttered a quiet, “Zayn.”_

_“You’re quiet and broody,” Louis comments, eyes glinting with something dangerous. That should’ve been Zayn’s first warning. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”_ )

It was from that point on that they were known as partners in crime, the troublemakers, with their adventures in wreaking havoc all over Doncaster with their pranks and shit sense of humor.

“You’re not getting sappy on me, are you, Zed?” Liam asks, nudging Zayn’s ankle with his own as he observes his fond expression. Liam pulls him out of his thoughts and grounds him, an anchor.

“Just watching,” Zayn murmurs, before looking at Liam. He can’t help but think of how Liam’s going to change, the faint hint of stubble sweeping at his chin and cheeks and his hair growing longer every day. He runs his hand through the air absentmindedly, tugging on it lightly and watching Liam’s eyelids sink out of pleasure. He’s practically keening, purring under Zayn’s touch and attention.

“Oi, no fucking in the living room,” Niall scolds with a mouthful of chips before muttering a quiet “bloody couples”.

. . .

Zayn’s not sure when it happened, he reckons it’s been for a while now, but it’s been brought to his attention now. Frankly, it scares Zayn. It makes his head dizzy with it all because he didn’t realize it. It’s the look that Liam’s been giving him, how their touches have turned more intimate. It’s how Liam watches Zayn with his warm chocolate browns and gives him a smile that makes his stomach churn, that makes his heart skip a beat, that makes him melt. It’s his candy pink lips that he’s memorized all too well, chaste kisses he’s grown accustomed to. It scares him because Zayn always knew he was falling for Liam, but he never knew he was falling for Zayn, too. And he’s not sure when it happened, how it happened. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth; he knows how these kinds of things work. Zayn is Liam’s first, and firsts never last. He’s just getting out of school after all, going to move on to university and bigger and better things. Those bigger and better things never included Zayn, and they never would.

“You okay there, babe?” Liam asks, placing his hands on Zayn’s shoulders and rubbing at the tight knots there.

“Fine,” Zayn replies tightly, not daring to look up at Liam. He can’t. He can’t get more attached than he is now. He doesn’t want to think about the look on Liam’s face when he ends it, the heartbreak and ache that’ll follow because Zayn was a fucking idiot and fell for some kid.

“Hey.” Liam spins him around in his chair and holds Zayn’s chin between his fingers. He’s looking at Zayn with those eyes, the ones that he’s found safety and comfort in. And those are the same eyes that are going to break his heart, he just knows it. Zayn wants to look away, but Liam’s insistent. Zayn would snort if he had the energy to, the way he’s seen Liam grow. He used to be so shy, so afraid to even look Zayn in the eye during their tutor sessions and now he’s begging Zayn to look at him.

“Here, c’mon, let’s go,” Liam says.

“What?”

“We’re going. All this art school work is burning you out and I don’t like seein’ you like this, ‘s not you.” And he grabs Zayn’s hand and drags him out the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere you want, I just want my Zayn back, yeah?” And Zayn just lets him tug him to the car, trying to memorize every second they spend together like it’s their last.

. . .

“Liam, it’s a Saturday morning and you’ve dragged me out to…”

“A pier!” he finishes happily and Zayn can’t be frustrated at him, not when he looks like a seven year old that just gave you a homemade present. “Me dad’s best mate owns a boat and he said I could use it whenever I wanted.”

“I can’t swim, Leeyum,” Zayn retorts, watching the push and pull of the water.

 

“That’s what I’m here for, silly,” Liam replies, hand still wrapped around Zayn’s wrist as he brings him closer.

“Li…” Zayn starts but Liam hushes him.

“C’mon, you’ve done tons of things for me. It’s about time I do somethin’ for you, yeah? I even invited the other lads in case y’ get bored of me,” Liam teases with a wink that’s not quite a wink.

“Never,” Zayn replies truthfully. He could never get bored of Liam. Liam laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners and he bites at his lip.

“Alright, c’mon, you sop, I think they’re waiting on the boat already.”

Zayn won’t admit it, but he definitely clutches onto Liam when he takes a step over the water to get on the boat. He sees Liam smirk a bit in the corner of his eye.

“Oi, did you finally convince the arse to join us?” Louis asks, his recognizable voice cutting through the noise of the waters.

“He was absolutely knackered,” Liam mocks, playing with the hairs at the back of Zayn’s neck. “He fell asleep in the car on the way here.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “‘Ve been tired.”

“Yeah, well we haven’t got time for your moodiness, Malik. Boys, we’re going sailing!” Louis announces.

. . .

Liam’s laugh rings through the air as Louis thwacks him on the head with his shirt with a fondly muttered “twat”. Zayn’s on the lounge chairs with Harry, watching from afar.

“Be careful there, Zee. I can spot your stiffy from a mile away,” Niall jokes as he passes them. Zayn blushes while Harry lets out a snort.

“Sod off,” Zayn mutters, consciously adjusting himself and he maybe closes his legs a little. It’s not his fault Liam is incredibly fit. Zayn swears Louis’s doing all of this just to take the piss out of Zayn. He’s been pouring water on Liam, making the curls that sit atop his head droop onto his forehead. His abs are dotted with sprinkles of water and Zayn can’t take his eyes away from the V of his hips, the happy trail that gets covered by his tight black boxers, the looseness of his shorts.

“I’ve never been fucked on a boat,” Louis muses. “Wouldn’t that be fun, Curly?” Harry covers his face with his hand and groans, shaking his head.

“I can’t believe I fell for a twit like that,” Harry admits, hand running through his curls.

“Me, neither. Louis was never the dating type. He’s lucky to have you, mate.” Harry ducks his head down, eyelashes fanning over his blushing cheeks.

“Yeah, well...thank you for making Liam happy.” Zayn stiffens at the comment, but brushes it off. He tries to shake his head, tries to formulate a response, but the words get stuck in his throat. Good going, Malik. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘arry,” he replies with a laugh. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about how much he needs Liam. He’s already thinking about the beginning of the end and it’s not even December yet.

“Fuck off, Malik, yeah, you do. We’ve been through this. He’s a good kid, be good to him. Just don’t break his heart or you’ll have to answer to me,” Harry chuckles. Zayn bites back the _make sure he doesn’t break mine first_ that’s at the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know how much more paranoia he can take.

“Harry! Leave my best mate alone, can’t you see he’s in one of his moods?” Louis calls from the deck. Zayn’s thankful for the distraction. “Payno, why don’t you go entertain my boyfriend while I go entertain yours?”

Zayn opens his mouth to correct him, but he’s already grabbing him by his shoulder and dragging him to the railing.

“The fuck is wrong with you, Malik?” Louis hisses, and his joking tone is gone. There’s something fiery in his eyes, mischief absent in the glare. He passes him a cigarette with the accompanying lighter. He’s grateful for the smoke, takes a long drag before answering.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Zayn says flatly. His mouth feels dry. He feels antsy, like a cornered animal. Louis’s interrogations are always the worst; his eyes cut into him like a knife, twisting and digging into his skin until he tells the truth. He fiddles with the bill of his snapback, looking out at the water.

“Details,” Louis scoffs, shaking his head. “Don’t fuck this up, Zayn. You always do this, you did this with--”

“Don’t,” he warns.

“--Perrie, with Ant, with all of them. You start fucking around because you think you’re that cool, that you can handle it, but you can’t.” The words sting like a harsh slap, would’ve preferred a slap to this, actually.

“Shut up, Lou,” he growls out.

“You’ve got feelings, Malik.” Louis gets closer to his face, demanding eye contact. “You think you’re doing the right thing now, but you’re not. I’ll tell you that. Get your head out your arse and take a look at what you’re doing to him. The fucker was telling me how nervous he was, that he was doing something wrong, when we both know it’s not him.”

 _It’s me_ , Zayn thinks bitterly. Louis seems to read his thoughts because he lets out a bitter laugh and rolls his eyes, taking a step back. “You’re such a self pitying little shit, you know that? You think you’re going to ruin his life, but you’re just scared he’s going to move on from you.”

And all the air in his lungs escapes him. “Don’t talk to me,” Zayn bites out, walking briskly back to the lounge chairs and Liam.

When he comes back, Harry’s giving him a concerned look, eyebrows furrowed and eyes dotted with worry. He doesn’t bother, just makes his way to Liam from behind. He wraps his arms around Liam’s torso, who lets out a giggle.

“Gross, you smell like smoke,” he laughs, but his laughs die down when he feels Zayn bury his face in his neck. “Everything alright?”

He presses a kiss to the skin right under his earlobe and lets out a quiet, “Just needed you.”

. . .

“Louis’ worried about you,” Liam whispers, breaking the quiet of the dark room. He’d decided to stay after the boat trip. His arms are wrapped around Zayn, nose pressing into the back of his neck. He presses light kisses at the hairs of his neck, hands running over Zayn’s knuckles, tracing each line and detail. When Zayn offers no reply, he continues, “It’s not me, is it?” His voice sounds impossibly small, almost like a child who thinks he’s gotten in trouble.

“Never,” he murmurs, sleep pulling at his eyes. He turns over so he’s facing Liam, bodies pressing against each other, foreheads touching. It’s intimate, but Zayn can’t find the energy to scold himself. He rubs his nose against Liam’s, closing his eyes to just revel in the feeling.

He tilts his head forward, catching Liam’s lips in a kiss and sighs into it when he feels Liam kiss back. It’s soft, gentle. Liam’s lips seem to mold against his, fitting together perfectly. The glide of their tongues isn’t aggressive, but there’s a hint of control with the way he kisses.

When they pull away, they’re both a bit breathless and Zayn can just make out Liam’s face in the dark, the faint grin on his face. “I got offered a trip to some fancy football camp in Wolverhampton. They’ve moved my studies digitally and I’ll be gone for ‘bout a week.” Zayn tries to mask the dismay on his face, choosing to close his eyes and pray that he falls asleep.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he hears Liam confess. He keeps his eyes closed and mouth shut as Liam whispers his good night and kisses his forehead.

. . .

The boys all sit at Liam’s house, counting down the hours til he leaves for camp. “You’ve got everything?” Zayn asks him, hand coming to rest at Liam’s side.

“Yeah, _mum_ ,” Liam teases. “C’mon, it’s only for a week. You can call and facetime me every day.”

“Oi, what about us?” Louis asks from the living room. Zayn and Louis are alright after an embarrassing apology. Louis had come forward with that look in his eyes, bordering apologetic but not quite, while Zayn mumbled something about him being right. They hugged and Louis had ruffled Zayn’s hair with a fond “arsehole” attached while Zayn replied with a quick “prat”.

“No, fuck all of you, I’m only gonna answer Niall’s calls,” Liam deadpans, making a point to snuggle against Niall when he crashes on the couch.

“Love y’ too, you fecker, even if you’re a pain in the arse. Who could say no to those puppy dog eyes of yours, Payner?” He grins as Liam rolls his eyes at being called a puppy. ( _“I’m_ not _a puppy!” he argued. The boys looked at each other and burst into laughter. “Maybe have Malik pick up a collar for you, Payno. You know how possessive he gets.” The conversation dropped from there and the rest of the night was spent hiding the blush on Zayn and Liam’s cheeks._ )

“C’mon, lads, get off the poor boy. He needs his body for sports, we can’t have you damaging him.”

“Of course, Zaynie’s trying to protect Liam’s body,” he hears someone comment.

“I heard that you arses,” Zayn says, trying to be upset but can’t find it in him to be. He’s decided to push all his concerns aside and just focus on Liam and art for now, dreading the week he’ll have without Liam.

“Alright, c’mon, let’s go in for a cuddle,” Harry decides, tugging in Liam by the neck and burying his face in his hair. Louis comfortably sits in Harry’s lap while Niall is stuck underneath Louis and Liam. They all look at Zayn, four pairs of eyes trained on him.

“What are y’ waiting for, Malik? An invitation?” He just grins and jumps into the dogpile, sprawling across the four of them and bursting out into laughter. Zayn ignores the burn in his cheeks when Liam plants a firm kiss to his lips and all the other lads coo.

. . .

The first few days without Liam are lonely, but Zayn busies himself by spending time with his family, planning for the holidays. He just needed a break, really. The chaos and demands of school were becoming too much and usually Liam was his resolution for that, but now he’s gone. In his absence, Zayn needed to find someone else to fill the void, and he reckoned his family could do that well. Plus, he sort of really missed his mum’s cooking.

He’s sat at the dinner table, playing with Safaa’s hair as she chats about some boy she met at school. “No dating yet, Saf. Not appropriate for girls your age.”

“But why?” she whines. “Wali said Niall’s been telling her you’ve got a _boyfriend_.” She sings the last word, dragging out the o. He hisses at her to shut up, but his parents already heard.

“A boyfriend, beta?” his baba asks. “When will we get to meet him?” Doniya walks in, waggling her eyebrows.

“Ah, yes, Zaynie’s new boyfriend. His name’s Liam,” she tells them casually, moving to the sink to wash the dishes. Her face remains neutral, but Zayn can see that smug twinkle in her eyes, the way they always get when she has dirt on him. “He’s finishing up sixth form.”

“Why haven’t we heard about him, sunshine?” his mother asks, a knowing look in her eyes, yet she still presses the question.

“‘s not that serious,” he mutters.

“Niall says it’s pretty serious,” Wali sings from upstairs. His face burns with embarrassment. He’s going to have some words with Niall once they all meet up again.

“If you say so, beta,” his mother replies, and Zayn’s thankful that the subjects finally dropped. His phone vibrates in his pocket, the familiar Timberlake tune playing. He runs upstairs, ignoring the cooing and teasing from his sisters.

He presses the answer button and smiles with relief when he sees Liam, his Liam, staring back at him. It’s the same face, same dorky smile. “Look at what you’ve done to your hair,” Liam murmurs, his face on the screen scanning over the buzzed hair.

He rubs a hand over the flat of his head self consciously, fingers grasping at the short spikes of hair. “Y’ like it?”

“I love it,” Liam answers truthfully, eyes still stuck with awe. Zayn grins, pushing his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“How’s camp?” Zayn asks.

“It’s fine. I miss you loads, though.” His heart pounds at the ease of Liam’s confession, how the words seem to just roll of his tongue.

He quietly whispers a “I miss you, too.” He’s not sure if Liam notices or not, but if he does, he doesn’t show any sign of it. They talk back and forth a bit, Zayn talking about how he drove home to Bradford to catch up with the family.

“I’d love to meet them and put some faces to the stories I’ve heard,” he says excitedly and Zayn forgets that Liam loves kids, loves families.

“Zayn! Dinner’s ready,” Doniya calls. He hears footsteps approach his room and the door creak open, where she’s waiting under the archway.

“Give me a sec, Doni,” he pleads, tilting the phone away from her. She eyes the device in his hands before quickly snatching it.

His protests die in his throat as she cuts him off. “So you’re Liam?” He hears more feet stomp against the floor as Waliyha and Safaa run to Zayn’s room.

“You’re talking to him?” Safaa asks. “I wanna see!” Zayn groans and buries his face in his hands as they bombard him with questions. He does well at deflecting them, though, choosing instead to properly introduce himself.

“Yeah, er, that’s me. Hi. You must be Doniya. I’m sorry we had to meet over the phone, but I’d love to come over if Zayn’ll have me,” he greets, his charm and politeness shining through. Zayn can’t help but feel endeared at the entire thing, reminded just how fucking nice Liam is.

“Are you my brother’s boyfriend?” Waliyha questions skeptically. He watches Liam cringe at the question, mouth opening and closing like he’s not sure how to answer.

“Hey, stop badgering him with questions, you pests,” Zayn says, an attempt to save him. He snatches the phone back from Doniya. “‘m sorry, Leeyum. I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

Liam’s face looks a bit more neutral, expressionless, than it was before. It’s just a flicker of it, though, before he goes back to smiling warmly at Zayn. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

The girls run back to the living room, and Zayn’s left with Doniya. “He’s a good one, Zaynie. Don’t let him go.”

. . .

Louis is sprawled across Zayn’s sofa, eyes closed. They spent the day down at the pitch and came back to Zayn’s flat. “I’ve missed this, you know?” Louis’s voice is slurred and airy, the way it gets whenever he gets too into his thoughts. The smell of cannabis is strong in the air, a trail of smoke coming from Louis’s spot.

“Yeah,” Zayn replies, sketching out a couple more lines. It’s a bit pathetic, really. He’s replicating one of the photos he took at the football game with Liam, trying to get the expanse of his shoulders just right. After all the time he’s spent drawing Liam, he thinks he’s finally gotten it right, managing to capture that determined look Liam always wears whenever he’s competing.

( _“Whatcha drawin’ there, Zaynie?” Louis asked him as all the lads watched the movie. They were all dogpiled on top of each other in Liam’s basement. There’s a big bowl of popcorn right at the middle of all the chaos, Niall’s lap. On either side of him were Louis and Liam, with Zayn’s head snug in Liam’s lap, feet planted firmly on the little space left on the sofa for a space to draw._

_“He’s drawing me as Batman,” Liam says proudly, positively beaming as he does so. Zayn would be embarrassed, but he could never deny the shy way he had asked him, the timidness in his voice when he asked Zayn to draw him as a hero since he “always drew Liam anyway.”_

_“Aw,” Harry teases, snuggling closer to Louis and looking up at him with those big, green eyes. “Isn’t that cute, Lou? You never draw me.”_

_Niall snorts, stuffing another handful of popcorn in his mouth. “That’s ‘cause Louis doesn’t have a talent to his name, unless you count running around on a field and kicking a ball around a talent.”_

_“Excuse you, Niall,” Louis quips with faux offense. “I’m bloody brilliant at footie!”_ )

“I don’t say it much, mate, but I’m sorry about the boat incident.” He stops drawing and looks at Louis’ form on the couch, waiting for more. “I just don’t like it when you don’t allow yourself to be happy like that. Y’ did it all the time when we started sixth form together, remember that?” Zayn’s nose wrinkles at the thought.

“You almost went to study architecture even when y’ parents gave you the okay for art.” He snorts. “You’re an idiot, Malik, a right idiot.”

“I’ll try and pretend I’m not hurt by that,” Zayn retorts.

Louis chuckles dryly. “You know what I mean, Zed. This is the happiest I’ve seen you; your eyes somehow turn into hearts whenever you see Liam, but you’re still fighting it.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything.

“Just think about it, yeah? I let myself have Harry. I thought I would never find anyone after Eleanor.” A quiet falls over the room at the mention of her. Zayn vividly remembers the red that contrasted against Louis’s bright blues, the tear streaks on his face. That was when Louis changed everything, muttering something about stupid hairstyles and settling for the flat fringe. He redid his entire wardrobe, buried himself in football, and that was that. He flinched at every mention of her that the name eventually became taboo. “I broke her heart because I thought she deserved better, I thought I was doing her a favor. I almost did the same to Harry. You get a limited amount of chances, Zed. Don’t waste this one.”

“It’s not that simple, Lou. You were right, you know, when you said I was scared. He even said it himself at the party. I don’t want him to leave me,” Zayn confesses, voice a bare whisper.

“Remember when you kissed me?” Louis asks. Zayn freezes. He remembers it, how could he not? It was his first kiss with a boy. “It was the locker rooms after footie practice and you were scared, crying even, because you were afraid.” And it’s like Zayn’s back in that locker room, eyes reddened and wet, shaking because he was _bi_. And bi boys, gay boys, pan boys--they didn’t have a happy ending. They didn’t get to live happily ever after with their boyfriends.

“You didn’t know if you’d end up with anyone, if you’d ever find someone,” Louis continues, but his voice sounds distant, almost muffled. Zayn feels like he’s drowning, like he’s underwater. “And so I told you you’d find someone and just as you were about to argue, I reached forward and kissed you.” Louis’s smiling now, snickering at the memory fondly. “We tried to date and broke up in the same week because it felt _wrong_. And now look at you.”

The kiss wasn’t anything special. He just remembered how different calloused fingers felt on his face, how the stubble irritated his skin in all the right ways, how rough the kiss was. It was the way they laughed it off afterwards, wiping at their mouths with just the hint of blush on their cheeks. The kiss didn’t lead to anything, of course, but Zayn knows how bad he needed it, the reassurance that he was okay, that it would be okay. From then on, Zayn would always go to Louis for advice with guys and Louis would build his confidence, one of the best wingmen he could possibly ask for.

“You’ve finally found someone, Zaynie. I don’t know how to explain it, but he does something to you. He takes down that guard you always have, where you’re so reckless with the way you feel. You fell for him instantly, no doubt about it, and only now are you realizing it. But the thing is, he’s fallen for you, too.”

“You’re a good friend, Lou.”

He grins at him, a manic grin only Louis Tomlinson could pull off. “I know. Now, c’mon, make me a cuppa and we’ll have a good bro to bro cuddle, maybe I’ll even snog you a bit just for old times’ sake.”

. . .

The lads all sit at the sofa, waiting for their Skype to go off. Finally, the call breaks the silence and they answer it eagerly.

“Payno!” Louis greets, smirking at the screen. “How’s it?”

“I’ll be back just in time for our Homecoming game. Do you think you guys can come? I know Harry and Ni are already going,” Liam tells them, running his hand anxiously through his hair. His curls have gotten longer and Zayn wishes he were here to play with them.

“Definitely, Payner, you know I’ll always support my favorite footballer,” Louis tells him. The rest of them nod their affirmations and Zayn watches as his eyes light up. His heart swells, wishing he could just scoop Liam up in a hug and never let go.

“I miss you all so much,” Liam confesses. “It’s so intimidating here, y’know. Thanks for being there f’ me, I dunno where I’d be without you lot.”

“Don’t get sappy on us Payno, we’ve already had to deal with Malik over here whining about missing you,” Harry laughs.

“Shuddup,” Zayn quips half-heartedly.

“I miss you, too, babe. Can’t wait to get back and swallow you down and--”

“Liam,” Zayn hisses, face burning while Louis is laughing his arse off and Niall and Harry seem more scarred than anything.

“Sorry, Zee, got a little carried away there. My hand’s not as good as I remember.” Zayn shifts his position on the sofa because fuck, Liam’s getting him hard with his words.

“Just shut up and come home soon, yeah?”

The skype call ends after some more familiar banter and Zayn’s made his decision. “I’m gonna need to ask you lads for some help with something, you think you can do that for me?”

. . .

Zayn’s body is thrumming with nerves because this is by far one of the stupidest things he’s done. The game just ended and the lads are celebrating and he’s fucking doing this. He’s doing this. Harry claps him on the back and asks, “I’m proud of you, mate.”

He hears footsteps make their way from the locker room with a confused “Can I take off the blindfold yet?” and some gruff voices replying with a stern “not yet, Leemo”.

They turn the corner and Zayn’s heart flutters because this is the first time he’s seen Liam in a week in the flesh. They didn’t have time before the game because they’d gotten there late. ( _“C’mon Zayner don’t wimp out on me now, you’re doing this today,” Louis told him as he dragged him into the car after Zayn tried to lock himself in his flat._ )

They remove the blindfold and Liam’s eyes widen as he takes a look at Zayn, wearing his jersey with the words “PAYNE” scrawled across his chest in big letters.

( _“I know you’re bad with sports, Malik,” Louis says between bouts of laughter, “but you do know the name goes on the back, yeah?” Zayn looks down at the jersey and realizes it’s fucking backwards. Un-fucking-believable. He doesn’t want to take it off because he actually did his hair for this and he can’t fuck up his hair and everything’s already set and--_

_“Shuddup, Lou,” Harry murmurs, flicking his ear as he drove them to the stadium. “Maybe he wanted to show his boy just how much he cared.”_

_“By having his names in big letters across his chest?” Niall asks, not quite convinced. “Seems a bit kinky to me.”_

_“Shut up,” Zayn grumbles, feeling the letters burn into his skin. So maybe that was just a hiccup in their great big plan. That’s alright._ )

“Zayn? What is--” but he stops talking when he sees Louis and Harry approach him from behind, grinning like mad. Liam’s teammates clap him on the back and mutter encouragements. He hears a quiet “You deserve this, Payne.”

Zayn looks back at Niall behind him, acoustic guitar thrown across his frame. Zayn tries not to shake as he gives him a thumbs up and Niall begins to play the opening chords. “ _Said all I want from you is to see you tomorrow_.” Liam’s mouth drops as the first notes fall from Zayn’s mouth. He puts his hand on his chest as he sings, praying his voice doesn’t crack, that he doesn’t look as emotional as he feels.

“ _And every tomorrow, maybe you’ll let me borrow your heart. Is it too much to ask for every Sunday? While we at it, throw in every other day to start_.” He grins at Liam in between lines, holding out his hand as he takes a step forward.

Louis and Harry add their vocals as he goes into the pre-chorus. “ _But I could be that guy to heal it over time. And I won’t stop until you believe it_.” Zayn takes Liam’s chin between his fingers, rubbing at the familiar stubble growing there. He’s smiling and fighting back tears because he’s doing this. He’s fucking doing this. “ _Cause baby you’re worth it._ ” Liam’s speechless, watching Zayn take his hands in his and serenade him.

“ _So don’t act like it’s a bad thing to fall in love with me. Cause you might fuck around and find your dreams come true with me_.” And he swears he’s going to remember this forever, the buzz in his skin and the rush making him smile even bigger as Liam’s eyes gloss over with tears. He rubs over Liam’s knuckles as he sings to him. His heart pounds as his eyes meet Liam’s and he wants to memorize every second of this because he wants this. He’s never wanted anything more.

“ _It’s not a bad thing to fall in love with me_ ,” Zayn sings softly over the acoustics of Niall. “Liam James Payne, I think I’m in love with you.”

He hears a sarcastic “he thinks?” but Zayn keeps going, “And I’m finally going to admit that. I’ve been so scared to admit it. I’m sorry for that. But you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“It sounds like he’s goin’ t’ propose,” Niall snorts, with a hushed shut up that follows.

“Fuck, what I’m trying to say,” Zayn says, his resolve slowly crumbling and hands shaking. His voice wobbles, mind racing as he tries to find the words to convey everything he’s feeling. His head is dizzy, dizzy with Liam, dizzy with his emotions, dizzy with everything. “I want to be with you, Leeyum. I want to kiss you and hold your hand and call you my boyfriend and I want all of that.”

Liam’s smiling like an idiot, eyes watery with tears. “Zayn Malik, you bloody idiot, I want that all, too. I think I love you, too.” And Liam caresses his face in his hands and kisses him. They hear a storm of wolf whistles and jeering comments, but he doesn’t care. They pull away, but not too far. They’re close enough where their noses still nuzzle against each other, where their breaths mix and foreheads touch. Zayn’s face is wet with tears, but he’s not sure if they’re his or Liam’s.

“C’mon, boyfriend, I think I made you a promise over Skype the other day,” Liam teases, peppering his face with more kisses. And Zayn thinks it’s not so bad, not bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> so that wasn't too bad right?
> 
> If you have any drabble requests, questions, etc. about this fic, feel free to reach me in my [inbox](http://liamstour.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> comments are much appreciated <3


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